The Night Witch
by DarkElements10
Summary: Miraz has fallen and peace has come to Narnia, but it hasn't come to Peter's head. As he tries to move on and become the true High King, moments of his past keep him grounded in guilt and uncertainty where Brielle, Susan's lady in waiting, has all the answers to his problems. It's such a shame she has to kill him; a revenge plot in return for all the pain he's caused her. Peter/OC.
1. Prologue

**The Night Witch**

**By: Riley**

**Summary\- Miraz has fallen and peace has come over Narnia. But it hasn't come to Peter's head. As he tries to move forward and become the true High King, moments of his past keep him grounded in guilt and uncertainty where Brielle, Susan's lady in waiting, has all the answers to his problems. It's such a shame she has to kill him.**

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Brielle did her best not to compare her own dressing to that of Queen Susan the Gentle's, knowing it was futile. Her own dressage could never compare. And yet, she could not help but feel pleased at her own; it was a common sort of dress; however the fitted waistband made her feel like a proper noble lady. The bodice festooned with just enough to make her feel glamorous.

Nevertheless, Queen Susan was always the one who drew the eye first, as it always had to be. And Brielle was the one to make it happen, taking her duties as her lady-in-waiting very seriously. It had been a few years since she had been taken from her home in Archenland to be trained to become a lady in waiting, and while her heart longed to be back in the mountainous region, she couldn't imagine giving up her life in Cair Paravel.

As it was, she would be home soon. Dressing Susan for that day's outing was enough to keep her hands, trembling with excitement to see her hometown, steady enough to work on brushing Susan's hair, ensuring it was tangle free to be twisted up in a very fanciful not. Susan, as observant as ever, noticed and made the comment, "Brielle, are you nervous?"

Brielle laughed, "No, your highness, I'm not nervous."

Susan brought her hand up and rested it on Brielle's, keeping her from continuing the brush forward. She twisted in her seat, form where she sat watching Brielle's movements in her mirror, and regarded her lady in waiting with a patient smile. "It's been so long since you've been to Archenland," She said. "Since any of us have been. I bet you miss it terribly."

Brielle lowered her chin. "I do," she agreed. "And, sometimes, I find that I miss my other home as well." She looked to Susan, who lowered her chin and nodded, understanding how it felt be taken from England, her first home, before finding her real home in Narnia. Brielle had been taken in a similar fashion from her home in Oxford, respectively. Though, a bit more unceremoniously as she'd been taking a bath at the time of her emergence at the beach. "Do you feel the same?" she ventured, speaking of the latter.

At that, Susan let out a quiet, unladylike snort. Something she would never be able to do in front of anyone but her lady in waiting or her siblings. "To go back where I was a nobody? Just thought to be nothing more than to grow up to be a wife and take care of children." She lightly tapped Brielle on the arm. "Surely, you know me better than that."

"Of course, I do," Brielle replied with a haughty lift of her tone, making Susan laugh. "As a matter of fact…" she moved to Susan's side and looked down at her conspiratorially. "I couldn't help but notice you haven't needed me to transcribe any writings for you as of late."

Susan lowered her head, studying her hands in her lap. "I haven't had…much to say lately," she explained.

"I see." Brille's lips pursed as she did her best not to smile. She brought her fingers up to run over the broach that covered her throat. "And are there any messages you'd like me to relay to King Caspian today?" Her words were teasing but struck true to Susan, who's cheeks blossomed a pretty hue of pink. "Surely you've found something to say."

"I believe this is the first time I've seen my dear sister without something to say."

Brielle stiffened for a moment before turning to face High King Peter, who casually strode into Susan's room. She looked to Susan, wondering if the High King had heard any of what they'd been speaking about. Susan, on the other hand, merely rolled her eyes before standing to greet her brother.

"Honestly, Peter, how many times do I have to tell you to announce your presence before coming into my room?" Susan tipped her head toward Brielle. "We could have been having a private conversation." She tossed Brielle a little wink, making Brielle smile.

"Yes, I'm sorry I interrupted a conversation about your tea drinking habits," Peter said sarcastically.

"We do much more than speak about tea, Peter," Susan chided him. She pressed a finger to her cheek. "Though, I'm not surprised you wouldn't know that. There's not much more going on in your head other than war and sword fighting."

"Yes, but that's the best part," Peter joked back.

His eyes shifted toward Brielle, and, Brielle noted, seemed to have finally managed to ascertain her without any embarrassment. After all, it wasn't every day the Magnificent and Just Kings were summoned to the beach when a Daughter of Eve arrived, to find her sudden transportation from a calming bath after a rough day of classes had deposited her there, void of any clothes.

As a matter of fact, Brielle spotted and had to keep her upper lip from curling in annoyance, he seemed to smirk at her in greeting. She felt her stomach twist, a combination of the memory of their first meeting that she tried to suppress and from the way he looked at her. She wasn't quite sure if she'd gotten over her embarrassment but took his lead when he reached a hand out to her and extended hers.

"Lady Brielle," he greeted, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand.

"Your Highness," she replied. Then, boldly, she added, "I assure you Susan and I have been speaking of more important matters than just tea."

"I'd hope so," Peter replied with a grin. He folded his arms and lifted his chin haughtily. "There's more to life than the conversations of the, shall we say, more tedious sort."

Susan rolled her eyes. "There goes that sword-fighting mind again." She sounded less patient this time around. "What is it that you wanted, Peter? There's much we need to do before we leave for Archenland."

That seemed to revive a thought in Peter's mind, for his expression turned serious and he looked toward the lady in waiting once more. "Brielle, could you please ensure the servants are prepared for our departure?" He asked.

"All right." Brielle brought herself up from her kneeling position, being careful to smooth down Susan's many layered dress as she did so. She didn't miss the no-so-subtle request for her to leave. A private matter between a King and Queen was simultaneously a private matter between a brother and sister. "I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you."

Brielle's eyes flashed and she couldn't help but add, "And I'll have you know that while you may regard Queen Susan as just your sister, may I remind you that her proficiency with an arrow has saved you on more than one occasion? Moments, of which, I'm sure you'd be more grateful for, if it found you in a nursing bed."

Peter cocked his head in conjunction with the sudden spread of his arms. "I apologize." His words were lofty, though a bit clipped, not particularly liking the taste of the words in his mouth as he said, "For once…I was wrong."

Brielle tipped her head in response, the corners of her lips turning up. "With all due respect sire," she said, letting the words out as slowly as Peter had done. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Susan laughed, while Peter appeared to be stuck between glowering at her and smiling in amusement. It didn't help how easily Susan, who was very adept at acting like a queen, was, at that moment, acting like a sister having a good laugh at a brother. Susan, still grinning away, waved a hand towards Brielle. "That will be all."

"Yes, your highness." Brielle curtsied, turned on her heel, her dress dusting the floor as she left to find the servants and do as she was told.

Rounding the corner of the long corridor, Brielle made sure no one was watching her, watching to see that she went the correct direction, and headed toward her own bedchamber. Once in her room, she whipped back the hem of her dress and slid a long, thin, jewel encrusted sliver of wood from a holster on her leg.

Her wand.

She waved it through the air, re-organizing her room in seconds. Her books, that had been laid on her desk, lifted and floated back into its spaces. Her bed covers, which had become disheveled in her haste to get ready that morning, pulled back and tucked neatly into place. But, most importantly, her journal slid out from its hiding place and floated to her. Brielle waved her wand once more, the journal opened and flipped through pages until it reached where she'd left off.

With a half-smile, she waved her wand once more, allowing words to form on the page, taking down her interactions with the High King and Queen.

_She hasn't had me deliver any messages to Caspian in a little while, _Brielle noted. _Which is strange for her. Her reaction to my question proved there's still something there. But she still hasn't said anything to her siblings despite my insistence. He could make her happy, I've always seen it. She just needs to allow herself to open up to that happiness, she's not being courted—though there have been many Knights, Barons, and Kings who'd been vocal about their want to make her their Queen._

_I really want her to be happy. She and Caspian would be lovely together._

Brielle thought of Caspian then. The King. He was attractive, every woman in Narnia, Telmar, and most of the surrounding countries had something nice to say about Caspian's looks. Not to mention his charm to those he spoke to and how he ruled. There weren't many women who didn't have something nice—and sometimes vulgar—things to say about him.

As for High King Peter…Brielle twisted her mouth aside as she thought about His Highness. He who ruled Narnia before King Caspian. There were more than enough women that wished to be his Queen. A common sort of gossip among the servants, who did as much as they could to get the attention of him and the Just King as well.

Peter was attractive, Brielle surmised, gently running her fingertips along the broach around her neck that glowed along with the tip of her wand. Something about the way he ruled, but also held a mischievous streak when he was able to be more himself, had many young women internally screaming with excitement if he cast even a passing glance her way.

It was such a shame she had to kill him.

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**A/N: **First chapter in and I'm already thinking I should have this move through _Prince Caspian _rather than be set after the movie. Decisions, decisions. This actually came about from my re-reading (and massively cringing) at my first Chronicles of Narnia attempt from 10 years ago, _Slipping Away_. Yes, it's been 10 years, I still have the story and I checked the date. But also from a tumblr prompt, re-watching _Prince Caspian, _and growing tired of saying I was going to write this but not actually doing anything with it.

I'm not sure if I'll get another chapter to this up anytime soon as it was an idea knocking at me and I needed it to get out. But if you're interested in more, let me know and I'll do my best!

**Cheers,**

**-Riley**


	2. Chapter 1: Between Clenched Teeth

Brielle stood aside, watching as the servants put the finishing touches on the breakfast items that adorned the large table for the five royals of Narnia to feast upon that morning. While she made sure the spread was evenly adequate—no one could come close to King Edmund's share of the spoils—she stepped back and nodded to the servants.

"That will be all, thank you."

"Yes, Lady Brielle."

They curtsied or bowed before leaving the room for the majesties to arrive once they'd finished their morning routines. Brielle had remembered to call for the maids to draw Susan's bath after her daily writing in her journal. As it was, there was still time to be had if the seriousness if Peter's expression was anything to go by.

Brielle glanced at the food that was laid out on the table, knowing she couldn't partake in any of it unless invited by any of the majesties. Even then, she was far from wanting to give into that temptation. Not to say that she had put a sort of spell over the food or laced it with anything to harm Peter, but the thought had crossed her mind once before.

A simple trace of arsenic, just enough to ensure the illness that wouldn't be detected until it drew concern. From then on, she'd continued to ensure he grew into his illness until he'd, unfortunately—or fortunately depending on the point of view—passed away. However, lacing his food would not be the best course of action, she knew.

There were too many people who could pinpoint her to be the one behind the treasonous crime. Too many knew it was her duty to ensure that Susan was not harmed or poisoned in any way. Having been appointed to watching the servants would ensure even further it was her responsibility if something were to pass their notice. Even putting a spell over the food would be difficult. She'd come into her powers since first arriving in Narnia, but found it increasingly infuriating by the day that she still was unable to focus her power on one object rather than on multiple ones at a time.

Tainting one goblet should be easy, the last thing she wanted was to taint all the others…not when they didn't have anything to do with it.

_Not like you're not going to hurt them in the process, _Brielle reminded herself. She pushed the horrid thought away the second it appeared. Wouldn't allow herself to even _think _of the pain and suffering it'd cause Edmund, Lucy, Susan, and Caspian. The sort of pain she couldn't even bare to think.

But it was what they said about revenge, she mused. That it was a dish best served cold. A life for a life and all that.

If it weren't for him, she'd be able to be come into her power and become one of the greatest witches that ever graced their presence in Narnia. If she had to bide her time and wait out for the moment she could have the King alone, for when she could watch the life fall from his eyes, so be it. She would wait all eternity for that moment.

Hearing footsteps coming towards the dining area, Brielle cleared her throat, equally smoothed down her dress and wavy hair that hung in tendrils around her face, and lifted her chin, ready to greet his or her highness. To which she did with a deep curtsy when she saw Lucy practically skip through the doors of the dining area.

Nothing to be called a fanciful room, but Lucy continued to marvel at the decorations that festooned the walls and corners, the brightness of the sunlight that streamed through the large windows overlooking the grounds of the castle. Brielle couldn't help but give a fond smile.

Though Lucy was not yet of age to have a lady-in-waiting, a topic she would sometimes gripe about when it came to reminisce of how old she truly was, Brielle did tend to her when Susan asked her to be, or when Lucy questioned for Brielle to be shared. Of course, Brielle didn't mind, she enjoyed her work and enjoyed working with both Queens of Narnia.

"Good morning, Brielle," Lucy greeted, giggling softly when Brielle curtsied once more. "That's right, I implore you to work as my entertainment whenever I enter a room," She teased.

"I only aim to please," Brielle teased in response. "Would you care for me to sing?"

At that, Lucy's nose wrinkled ever so slightly, though she kept the pleasant smile on her face. "I've heard you sing. Please don't."

"I can't be any worse than Edmund."

"Mmm." Lucy tapped a finger to her cheek. Her eyebrows twitched upwards. "Do you care to make a bet on that?"

Brielle bowed her head gracefully. "I do not." She tipped her head toward the entrance to the dining area. "I will let you all dine in peace, I'll go back to my quarters and have my bath drawn so that we can depart for Archenland as soon as possible."

"Would you mind to taking down a message for me while you're at it?" Lucy asked. Brielle nodded and waited for Lucy to dictate. "Just a silly reminder, really. I need to ensure that I take the time to go to the infirmary."

"Do you feel sick, Lucy?"

"No! But Ii must continue with my studies. My cordial makes it so that I can heal people, but I'd like to know how to do it without having to use it." She gestured to her side, where her cordial was always situated, ready in case of an emergency. "As it is, I've found that my bedside manner has been applauded," she added in a cheeky manner.

"That's because our Valiant Queen shows love to all creatures. I'll be sure to take down that reminder for you." Brielle curtsied once more, sure she was dismissed and Then she grew serious, clasping her hands in front of her dress. "I ensured the servants were to arrange your carriages. I will check on them before I go to my own quarters."

"See you, Brielle."

Brielle swept from the dining area and headed back to her room. Along the way, she passed guards, knights, maids, and servants who all smiled and nodded her way. Brielle smiled and nodded to them in response. She stopped short when, rounding the corner of the elongated hall came two servants, that almost plowed her over.

Typically, servants held a sense of decorum when doing their duties in the castle, but that wasn't always upheld by the children. Brielle smiled as she watched Rosie and her younger brother Roman, run in circles around her, arms outstretched as they tried to slap each other on the arm in what appeared to a bizarre version of a chasing game.

"Be careful," Brielle warned them, grimacing when she saw Rosie give Roman a particularly hard push that nearly projected him into the wall. "Hey, hey." She grasped their arms, bring them to a halt as they flailed their arms and legs, trying to hit each other. "What's going on?"

"Rosie! Roman!" A servant hurried around the corner and came to a stop, when she spotted Brielle. Clasping her hands together, she quickly—almost frantically—curtsied. "Oh, Lady Brielle! I'm so sorry for the interruption. I told these two not to wander off while I set up breakfast for the royals. I hope they didn't disturb you. Please, let me take them—" she held her hands out towards her children, waving frantically. "I'm sorry, there's so much for me to do and I was hoping to show them what needs to be done around the castle in case—"

Brielle smiled and grasped Adrianna's shoulders. The head of the servants, Brielle had gotten to know Adrianna very well and had become very close to her, even being there to witness the birth of her two children. Once docile infants had surely seemed to grow into their rambunctious tendencies the older they became. "Adrianna, no need to worry, nothing's been broken and I'm sure once they get their energy out they'll be able to help you a bit more."

"Brielle," Rosie said, turning her large hazel eyes up at her.

"_Lady _Brielle," Adrianna hissed.

Rosie puffed up her cheeks, rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. She reached up and grasped Brielle's hands, working to free herself. "_Lady Brielle_," she said petulantly. "Roman hit me."

"Rosie hit me first!" Roman screeched back.

"He's a horrid brother. I was trying to prove to him who was the elder sibling. And, rightfully, the who will inevitably take the name of our family and—"

Brielle laughed quietly. Rosie was only six years old, but she clearly had heard a lot about the royals' reign back in the Golden Age. Enough so she'd watch her rule all the young servant children with any long and pointy object she could find, knighting some, and demanding others to go to prison for treason—or which "treason" to her meant knocking her down.

"Once you're done with your royal duties, would you like to help me ensure that Queen Susan's carriage is ready for the voyage to Archenland?" Brielle asked, smoothing Rosie's hair back from her forehead as the young girl nodded, eyes widening in amazement. Roman made a whining sound and tugged on Brielle's other hand. "You too, Roman."

Roman stuck his tongue out at Rosie before they followed their mother, who called for them once more, and disappeared as Susan walked up, chuckling quietly. "They sure do remind me of me and Peter when we were that age."

"You tried to kill him?" Brielle asked, surprised. She hadn't known Susan to be anything more than refined and able to hide any anger she may have felt until the right time to unleash it. Sure, she confided in Brielle all the times where she grew frustrated with having to keep up appearances in front of the kingdom and could release it when they were alone.

"I wouldn't say I've gone that far," Susan said with a light laugh, blue eyes sparkling. "But there had been plenty moments when our mum and dad had to tear us apart." She bobbed her head. "Peter would say I was an absolute terror. I can say the same about him. And even more so once Ed came along. He so followed Pete around, wanting to do everything he did. They tormented me on nearly a daily basis. It was such a relief when Lucy came along and evened out the playing field."

"And here I thought Lu was Peter's favorite," Brielle commented lightly.

"She likes to think she's everyone's favorite, I suppose," Susan said.

"Speaking of Lucy, I was to write a note to remind her to look into the infirmary."

Susan's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I hope she's not falling ill. Not when we're to be setting off for Archenland once we commence our breakfast."

"Not at all, Su, she's working to learn as much about healing as she can, so that she doesn't have to rely on her cordial," Brielle explained. "There's plenty of it left, but you know Lucy. She wants to be there for everyone on her own volition."

"That would be Lu, when she's not running around trying to find out everyone's business." Susan's smile then turned mischievous, her eyes shining even further. "That reminds me of some interesting information that I've managed to come across." Brielle lifted her eyebrow. "Of your life in Archenland."

"Please remind me," Brielle said. "As I'm unsure of what you're referring to." Though, with a sinking feeling, she had an idea she knew what Susan was talking about, and had it confirmed the moment Susan mimicked Brielle and lifted an eyebrow, lips pursing.

"Do the names Vincent and Silas ring a bell?"

Brielle couldn't help the groan that slipped past her lips for nothing irritated her more than Vincent and Silas, two nobleman whose families hers were close to. And the two who managed to create more strife for her than High King Peter the Magnificent could ever think of.

"I see that they do," Susan said. She reached out and grasped Brielle's hands. "There's a story here, I can tell. Are they previous suitors of yours?" She continued to press when Brielle moved to take her hands away from Susan's but found the Gentle Queen to be much stronger than she let on. Not that Brielle needed convincing, she was the one to aid Susan in her archery and combat training. She had the bruises, welts, and scars to prove it. "Come on, you can tell me!"

"There's nothing to tell, Susan, I assure you," Brielle said.

"Liar." Susan tapped her cheek before pressing her fingertip into Brielle's shoulder, gently pushing her backward. "What is it, then, if they're not suitors?" Brielle continued to remain tight-lipped.

There was a reason she kept a lot of her past quiet, most of which determining how her future was going to go. Brielle surreptitiously glanced towards the hem of her dress where her wand gently brushed against her thigh. She had to think of a different place to hide it once she arrived in Archenland and was able to dress following her home's rules of regality.

"If you're so insistent on setting me up with Caspian, then I feel it's only fair that you allow me into that portion of your life and inquire—"

"I'll be sure to introduce you," Brielle interrupted with a bright smile. "Once we arrive, we'll send for them and I'll introduce you."

Susan's mischievous smile faded into the pleasant one that had Susan well known in not just Narnia, but on Earth as well. "I look forward to it."

Brielle curtsied and left Susan to dine with her siblings. The second Brielle turned her back, the smile dropped from her face, replaced with an eyeroll and an expression of disgust.

She wouldn't be able to get Peter that day, but the right opportunity would present itself soon. If the mere thought of seeing Vincent and Silas didn't drive her to pitch their carriage into the water on the way to Archenland.

She wanted to kill the High King, but didn't think Aslan would let her into his country if she managed to take out herself and Susan at the same time. He didn't strike her to have a very big sense of humor.

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**A/N: **Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter of the story here, on tumblr, and on AO3. It was certainly a lot more than I thought I would receive. But what do you guys think? Should this still be set after Prince Caspian or during? I can easily make it work both ways—I'd have to tweak a few things it if it were set in the movie—but I'm interested to know what y'all think.

I hope to update again soon!

**Cheers,**

**-Riley**


	3. Chapter 2: From The Past

**Chapter Two: **From The Past

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"Rosie, Roman, it's time to come down," Brielle said.

She reached up towards the horses tied to the front of the carriage where the young servants sat atop, giggling as they ran their hands along the horse's main.

They simply giggled louder and leaned out of the way of her attempts to pull them down. Brielle smiled, taking a step back as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Oh, to be so young and carefree. To not care so much about different social classes to be in and what it meant for everyone. Brielle looked at the carriages that were to carry the royals and let out a sigh, feeling her stomach twist in apprehension.

Almost time for them to go to Archenland. And, while most would've been excited to go home, she was increasingly dreading it as the seconds passed. She wasn't ashamed of her past life by any means, but, like many others, couldn't help but compare what she knew of her life to what the Royals had. The clothing, the servants, the way they simultaneously ruled over Narnia and Telmar—more so Telmar as Cair Paravel, the Pevensies' home, was still in ruin—with Caspian by their side. Becoming formidable forces to anyone who may want to challenge their reign or exude their own force upon them.

There were those that quivered at the mere mention of any of their names. And yet, Archenland was one of Narnia's closest allies. There was nothing but peace between the two countries. It made sense that the royals would want to visit after Miraz's fall to ensure the peace was being kept and to establish a better connection—politically—in case there was another uprising.

The idea of them meeting Vincent and Silas made her upper lip curl every second the thought crossed her mind. She managed to sell it well enough, to Susan, that they were at least friends. But friends were the last thing she would've willingly said. Then again, she hadn't anticipated being back in Archenland with the Pevensies anytime soon. She missed it greatly, devouring any letter she received, often reading it and re-reading it well into the night. But, as there were some things even the Pevensies didn't miss about their home in England, there were things Reagan didn't miss about Archenland.

She rarely, if ever, thought about her home in Essex, in the real world. With all the time she'd spent in Narnia it was very much like "the real world" ceased to exist, nothing more than distant memories that came up at times where her mind wandered, in brief moments by herself.

Brielle was knocked out of her thoughts—literally—when the horse let out a whinny, upset by something about Rosie and Roman being on its back, and tossed its head, knocking into Brielle's side. She fell to the ground, landing on her hands and knees, feeling the skin pull back. She turned back to the horse, glaring at it as it continued to wave its head around, starting to nervously stamp its feet to the ground.

At Brielle's glare, the horse seemed to become more much agitated, starting to whinny louder and louder. _Yeah, you're going to regret that, _Brielle thought. She curled her fingers into her palm, ready to raise her hand and set a spell on the horse, only stopping when she heard Edmund's laugh behind her.

"I see you don't have the magic touch with animals," he said, reaching up to place his hands along the neck of the horse. Almost instantly, the horse calmed down, gently stamping its foot along the ground and breathing quietly through its nose. Edmund reached out and ran his fingers over its head, between the eyes and down to the snout. "You should see how the rest of them are. Scary, innit?" He reached towards Rosie and Roman, who'd grown silent upon the arrival of the Just King, eyes turning to wide saucers when he slipped his hands under their arms and gently carted them to the ground.

Once they were firmly on the ground, Rosie and Roman continued to stare up at him, jaws slacked as Edmund chuckled nervously. It wasn't until Brielle shooed them back to their mother that they finally moved, scampering away as fast as their legs would take them, kicking up dust as they went. Brielle chuckled to herself, carefully pulling herself to her feet, dusting off the front of her dress.

"I thought you became used to the animals around here," Brielle commented. "All the talking beasts and…" she trailed off, seeing the dark look come to Edmund's eyes. He continued to, absentmindedly, stroke the neck of the horse as he turned away from her.

"So much time has passed since we left the first time," Edmund remarked. "Since we came back. Some of our friends…we've lost more than we thought we would. The Beavers, Mr. Tumnus…" he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "The centaurs, the minotaurs, the fawns…everyone is gone. The friends that we had when we first arrived were taken down by Jadis and her army. Then, once we left, things moved on without us, for hundreds of years. They lost their rulers, their ability to speak…"

Brielle watched as Edmund clenched his jaw, a vein throbbing in his neck. He cleared his throat, turning his back toward Brielle so she didn't see the frustration that came to his eyes. Brielle ducked her head, licking her lips. She hadn't been there for a good chunk of their adventures the first few times they went to Narnia, had been transported to the beach of Cair Paravel when they were slowly falling into their roles of the prophecy of the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve.

Edmund wasn't one who liked to show his emotions too much, she noticed while working along side Susan. He was jovial when he was in a good mood and could be downright nasty when he was feeling slighted in some way. But other than that, he didn't allow himself to get too caught up in his feelings. Whether it was sadness or jealousy, he did his best to keep it at bay. But it was moments like this, when he didn't have an audience, where he didn't have to _be _King Edmund the Just that he was truly himself.

Not that his sarcastic and joking manner wasn't his true self. But sometimes it was hard to keep up the façade. While he didn't know it, she certainly understood how exhausting it could be.

"We were attacked once," Edmund added. "By a bear. We just came back to Narnia and…well, I'm sure you remember everything that happened after that." He turned back to her with a half-smile, his freckled cheeks turning up as one side of his mouth flipped up.

"Yeah." Brielle folded her arms, a very unladylike thing to do, but found herself in good company. _As it was, _she reasoned. _If it keeps things from going South, it makes it easier for me to get to the High King. _"I remember something about showing off and dropping a torch."

Edmund rolled his eyes. It was a hard thing to speak about, Brielle knew. How things could've gone even worse with the raid against Miraz's castle, had Edmund not been able to recover from dropping the only signal they had to taking them by surprise, there would've been more casualties. Edmund held that guilt for a long while, unable to look Peter or Caspian in the eye as days passed, working harder than ever when training to go against Miraz once more.

_Not that the others noticed,_ Brielle thought. They were too busy arguing over what to do; arguing whether they should stage another ambush, whether they should wait for Aslan's help, argued over Peter's and Caspian's ideas of what to do to take down Miraz once and for all.

"I wasn't showing off," Edmund defended himself. He finally lowered his hands from the horse and folded them across his chest, like a petulant child. He even lifted his chin in a manner she was sure he did a lot when he and his siblings were younger. "I was getting ready for my first plan of attack."

"Yeah, that was it." Brielle looked over her shoulder and stood back from Edmund when she noticed the rest of the royals were heading their way, flanked on all sides by knights, pages, and aides. Brielle grasped the sides of her dress and swung her leg out into a deep curtsey. "Your majesties."

"You know you don't have to be so forward with us," Edmund said, almost patronizingly.

Brielle merely shrugged as she stood from her curtsey. "There re certain ways I must act in public," she reminded him. "Though I am Queen Susan's Lady in Waiting, it doesn't mean that I am to have any special privileges when I'm around others."

"It doesn't?" Lucy teased, making Brielle smile. She sucked in a breath between her teeth, practically bouncing on her toes, showing off her young age compared to the age she truly—technically—was. "Are we ready to go? I can't wait to get back to Archenland."

"Careful, Lu," Caspian joked. "If you get any more excited, we'll have to have you run along with the horses."

Susan laughed along with Peter and Edmund. "Do you really think that'll get us there faster?" She tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. "There's more than enough things I thought of to get Lucy's energy out but making her run the carriages isn't one of them."

"I have a very good imagination," Caspian replied. He leveled his gaze on hers. "When it comes to ensuring my own means of entertainment and pleasure, that is." Susan blushed and looked away, finding she had no way to turn when she saw Brielle send a smirk her way. Due to that, Susan turned her gaze to the ground, as if suddenly interested in the flowers by her feet.

"Are we ready to go then?" Peter asked, unknowingly rescuing his sister from the sweetly awkward exchange. When he got positive responses, he moved to place his hands on Edmund's and Lucy's shoulders, holding them back from climbing into the nearest carriage. "You two are going in your own carriage."

Edmund's expression immediately turned into one of such outrage that only a younger sibling could muster. The one on Lucy's face wasn't much better. She quickly arraigned her features to appear innocent while equally perturbed. A look that usually had Peter walk back on any sort of punishment or order he was to give to his youngest sister. "Why do we have to go in our own carriage?" Edmund demanded.

"Yes, I believe we've managed to pride ourselves and you on what we've done ot hold ourselves in such high standards as the Kings and Queens of Narnia," Lucy added. She lifted her chin in the same manner Edmund had before but continued to hold a more regal air as she did so. "So…I demand you to tell us why we have to be sequestered like some sort of commoner."

Peter folded his arms and smirked at the younger of the four Pevensie children. "I don't want to have to take the entire trip to Archenland hearing you constantly ask, "Are we there yet?" or stating that you have to use the loo, or get into one of your inevitable pinch fights because you're bored. Or any other childish games you'd get into."

At that, Edmund visibly bristled. "I haven't done that in years." He jerked his thumb over to Lucy. "And, even then, Lu's always the one to start it!"

"I do not!"

"You do, too."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

Susan rolled her eyes then shook her head at Peter, who continued to smirk. If it were possible, it grew wider. "You do love to be right, don't you?" She asked.

"You have no idea."

With that, the group moved to climb into their carriage. A servant opened the door for Susan and Brielle to climb inside, with Caspian and Peter taking their hands to help them up the steps. Susan smiled fondly at Caspian as she passed him to get inside. A fond smile that he gave back, seconds before glancing at Peter to ensure he hadn't noticed the exchange. Brielle, on the other hand, did her best to keep her smile on her face as she took Peter's hand and allowed herself to be brought up into the carriage.

She sank into her seat on the outside of Susan, her rightful place to protect Susan in case of an ambush and smoothed down her dress. Turning her head, she watched as Edmund and Lucy went to their own carriage, already bickering with each other as they went.

Caspian laughed and nudged Peter's on the shoulder. "You truly do know your siblings."

"Well, when you've been on enough car rides with those two in the backseat, I reckon you learn things pretty quickly," Peter replied. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as the carriage started up and moved along the dirt path leading from the Telmarine castle.

"How long is the ride, again?" Susan asked Brielle. _Long enough, _Brielle thought. Instead, she gave Susan a ballpark guess on how long it would take to get to her home. Susan beamed and nudged Brielle in the side. "Then, not much longer until we meet the mysterious Vincent and Silas."

At that, Peter and Caspian both perked up. "Vincent and Silas?" Peter repeated. His tone seemed to turn a bit cool at the edge. Something Brielle couldn't miss despite the teasing warmth that masked it. "Are they suitors of yours?"

"Why is it that whenever they're mentioned it is automatically assumed they're my suitors?" Brielle asked, working to deflect the conversation. She brought her hands to her lap and started to twist her fingers together. A distracted motion, albeit a calming one. "No, they're not my suitors, they're from a noble family and they're people I've known for a very long time."

Caspian rubbed his chin. "And you're not betrothed?"

"No."

"Not even politically."

"No."

"Then why all the secrecy surrounding them?"

Brielle's eyebrows twitched upwards. "A lady's got to have her secrets," she replied, putting on a haughty tone that made the others laugh. The conversation quickly changed, bringing Brielle some relief. She watched as Susan produced a book from the pocket below her seat and started to read and Peter and Caspian fell into a conversation about war strategies and political moves of Telmar; all the decisions that resulted in its eventual fall.

Brielle continued to twist her fingers, moving it back and forth as the seconds passed. A smirk came to her face when conversation around her slowly, slowly started to die. Susan turned the pages of her book a bit slower, Peter and Caspian started to yawn. Very slowly, their heads stared to droop.

Bringing her fingers up to touch her broach, Brielle watched as Peter, Caspian, and Susan all fell asleep, breathing quietly as they fell into a deep slumber. Brielle looked to Susan and held her breath, momentarily waving off the guilt that struck her. She hated that Susan, Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy had to become caught in the crossfire, but they'd understand in the long run.

They had to.

Peter's head fell to his chest, eyes slamming shut.

_Goodnight, your majesty, _Brielle thought, dropping her hand from her broach.

* * *

"Peter…Peter!"

Peter groaned as he heard the urgency in his little sister's voice. Sitting in the library, he thought that he would be able to get a little bit of peace and quiet. Not that he didn't enjoy his siblings' company, they were closer than most families were, but being together all the time made it difficult to find time to himself. Frustration crept into his shoulders, already having a feeling he knew what Lucy was calling him for. His suspicions were confirmed as soon as Lucy appeared beside him, out of breath, her braided pigtails flopped over her shoulders.

Peter saw the terror in her eyes, noticed the heavy breathing, and the way she clutched her chest. Whatever it was had her find her big brother as soon as possible.

"Ed's in a fight again." He didn't have to ask, he knew already. He closed the book he'd been reading and set it aside as Lucy confirmed it. But he must've been moving slower than Lucy wanted for she grabbed his arm, starting to tug at it.

"Susan is trying to stop him. We keep telling him that mum is going to be really mad. But you know Ed's temper."

"Unfortunately, I do." Peter replied.

More often than not, Edmund's anger was turned to him for one reason or another. Peter could feel anxiety run through his body. If Susan was really trying to stop Edmund, it had to be a bad fight. Usually, Susan would sit back and comment once on Edmund's foolishness before rolling her eyes and watching the rest play out.

Peter leapt from his chair so fast it toppled to the floor. Others that were in the library looked over at him in confusion as Peter and Lucy ran out of the library. "Where is he?"

"The front lawn!" Lucy replied as she struggled to keep up with her oldest brother. Peter cursed under his breath, making Lucy gasp quietly in surprise.

The two ran across the grounds, immediately finding the fight as they approached. A large crowd had gathered around with guys and girls both shouting, watching, and egging on whomever was in the middle of the circle. Peter came to a stop at the edge of the crowd and scanned the scene. There was a kid lying on the ground, holding onto his nose. Blood had stained the collar of his shirt and his tie. Across from the circle, Peter spotted Susan. As if she knew she was being watched, Susan lifted her head and caught Peter's eye, sorrow clearly written on her face.

Peter suddenly felt a surge of anger.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed his way into the center of the circle, just as Edmund was shoved backwards by another student. Peter caught his brother before he hit the ground and held on tightly as Edmund tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Knock it off, Ed!" Peter grunted, holding on tighter as Edmund continued to flail.

"Get _off_, Pete!" Edmund shouted. He flailed so violent that he accidentally hit Peter in the face.

"Get out of here!" Peter called to the two students that were fighting against Edmund. They glowered at the younger Pevensie boy, clearly still itching for a fight, before turning and walking away, seeing the fire that raged in Peter's eyes when he glared at them over Edmund's head. Now that the fight was over, the other students walked away too.

Peter shoved Edmund away from him, turning to tend to his own bruise.

"Ed, are you ok?" Lucy asked her brother.

"I'm fine." Edmund muttered, eyes downcast.

"Like hell, you're fine," Peter snapped back. Edmund took a step back. "Why do you _always_ have to act like this, Ed?"

"I-"

"Don't you know the reason that mum has been so upset lately is because of your actions? All of the fights that you've been getting into?"

"Peter" Susan warned.

"Sod off, Susan!" Peter snapped at her. He sighed and turned his head away, tugging on the ends of his hair. He turned on his heel and stared back to the library, taking long, angry strides as he went. When he arrived, he pushed open the doors to go inside, then stopped.

Instead of the library filled with students and other scholars, he found himself standing along the shore. Waves lapped at his feet, rushing up to soak the ends of his slacks. Peter's eyebrows furrowed together, taking in the scenery.

He turned and brought up a hand, shielding his eyes from the immense sunlight that stretched over the sand. Twisting around, he looked for his siblings, finding them gone. Sweat flooded his palms. He dropped his hand from his face and glanced around.

"Su!" he shouted. His voice was barely audible over the crashing waves. "Ed! Lu! Where are you?" He paused, waiting for something, anything. He licked his lips, getting nothing in response. "Answer me!"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane."

Peter whirled around, pressing his lips together when he found Maugrim padding towards him, leaving footprints in the sand as he went. Maugrim. Jadis's right hand, captain of the secret police. Peter remembered their last encounter all too well. Remembered how Susan and Lucy were playing around in the river, shortly after they had first met Aslan, and they were attacked by the large wolf, who clearly wanted nothing more than to tear them limb from limb. Peter, to protect his sisters, had no choice but to go in and fight the wolf.

Truth be told, Peter hadn't wanted to kill him. Had never killed anything in his life. He simply wanted to protect his sisters from the current danger, wanted to protect Narnia from Jadis and her rule. Needed to fight to send the White Witch a message, that they wouldn't be scared off too easily.

Sacrifices had to be made. Peter swung up his sword at the right moment and it became buried deep in Maugrim's chest, killing him instantly. Peter simply turned and washed the blood off his sword, ensuring his sisters were okay, taking in the wide-eyed wonder they looked at their big brother with. He couldn't' think about what had just happened, they needed to get somewhere safe.

So Peter compartmentalized it. He'd killed the wolf…forced himself not to think about it.

Every now and then it came back to him. It caught him off-guard, when he'd been pouring over maps or books, the image of the dead wolf that laid there. When they got back to the real world, taken out of Narnia after living out his life, it became a fantastical tale to tell Professor Kirk.

Seeing him now…Peter simply clenched his jaw and watched the wolf's every move. If Jadis was able to come back, summoned by a hag and a werewolf, it made sense that Maugrim was to make another appearance in his life.

Maugrim was dead, Narnia was magical.

"How are you here?" Peter demanded. "You're dead."

"And yet, here I am boy," Maugrim's lips pulled back into a snarl. He chuckled, pacing towards Peter. "Or should I say _King_?"

"_High _King," Peter corrected him.

"Your majesty." Maugrim's voice turned sarcastic as he dipped his head in a low bow. Then he lifted his head and continued to pace, circling Peter, watching him like a piece of meat. After a few moments, he leaned back on his haunches and slowly sat down.

They stared at each other.

Stared until a loud roar made Peter jump, made Maugrim leap to his feet, made Peter jolt awake from his dream with a sharp inhale of breath. He looked around the carriage, bringing his arm across his forehead.

He worked to steady his breath, to regain his composure. A King wasn't supposed to be scared. Nevertheless, Peter looked out to the window nearest to him, expecting to find Maugrim racing along the side of the bumping carriage, but was relieved to find nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** Again, thanks for the response to the last few chapters. I'm glad you're all enjoying it so far. The pacing will increase as the story goes on.

**Cheers,**

**-Riley**


	4. Chapter 3: This King Was Stronger

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Brielle pursed her lips as she watched Peter's reaction from beneath her half-lidded eyes. Worked to do her best to keep her face neutral. To make sure there was nothing to prove she was, in fact, watching his every move. Brielle watched Peter jerked awake, eyes flying wide open, before he shifted to face the window, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. Then he rested his hands in his lap. Sat up straight.

She could practically see the 'regal air' that shifted over him, the same way he and the rest of his siblings changed when they were suddenly in the presence of anyone but their family and Caspian. When they were able to let their guards down, they were truly their age, truly siblings. Bickered and poked fun, did everything they could to get on each other's nerves and tease about the little things going on in their lives that could be used for blackmail later. But when there was someone else around; a messenger, a knight, a lady-in-training, a peasant, servant, anyone who wasn't close enough to know even their closest secrets, they'd immediately put on an almost haughty air that would make the interrupter shy away.

But after a dream like that, she expected him to be falling apart. Balling his eyes out. Begging for forgiveness for his transgressions. Not acting as if everything was fine.

This king was stronger than she gave him credit for.

Brielle's eyes narrowed slightly, almost slamming shut. Didn't close completely, she couldn't let her guard down like that. Brielle did her best not to bare her teeth, not wanting any question of what sort of dream she was having if anyone looked at her too closely. Worry about her if they paid too much attention to the tension in her jaw. They were already too invested in her past with Silas and Vincent, no matter how hard over the years she tried to keep the two parts of her life separate.

Brielle glanced at the others, who were still fast asleep. Even more soundly than she thought she'd put Peter under. An off-shoot of her powers that she hadn't quite anticipated. (And proved she had more work to do to get it right). Brielle could only imagine—if they were to take up in that moment—what sorts of dreams _they _thought she had from the look on her face.

Even though Brielle's dreams, the sweetest ones, were the ones where she watched Peter's life slip from his eyes.

And she was on her way to making that dream a reality. The dream she projected to him was supposed to have psychologically tortured him. Left him a quivering mess. So how was he now so calm? A dream like that would've made even the strongest of the strong wet their pants and run off, screaming like a banshee.

Brielle sighed quietly and turned her head the other way, to mask the frustration that was seconds away from bubbling up. If her reflection in the window was any indication, one slip of her pent-up emotions and she'd probably blow the whole carriage sky high.

_At least_, she thought ironically, _it'd make my plan work faster than the way its already going._

Especially if things continued to work out the way they did when she used her powers. It wasn't every day that she got to use her familiar to work out on her powers. It was just as well that the only way for her to get stronger was if she had her familiar by her side.

And she would have.

If Peter hadn't killed Maugrim so long ago.

* * *

-**A/N: **I didn't intend this chapter to be so short, but it's the way things worked out. What's happening next would've just slowed things down a little bit. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it and if you're still confused, let me know and I'll try to make things clearer for you.

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	5. Chapter 4: Scars

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Finally, after hours of riding in the bouncing carriage, the Pevensies, Caspian, and Brielle finally arrived in Archenland.

Brielle leaned forward and looked out from the window along the sprawling country she called her home. Despite having lived in Narnia with the Pevensies, working as Susan's lady-in-waiting, it wasn't Narnia she considered her home. It wasn't the place she spent much of her time after having arrived in the other world.

After arriving from falling in the bottom of her tub, to the beach of Cair Paravel, she watched as the prophesied Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve followed the prophecy to defeat Jadis. All the while learning of her own powers with and without her familiar. So much so that while the Pevensies were coming and going from Narnia, Brielle found herself stuck there, unable to return to her former life.

A normal life.

As normal as could be for someone who had a small group of friends growing smaller by the day, evacuating as the war came closer to land. Wondering if their home was the next to be bombed. But continuing to live life as if it was to be the 'normal' for the rest of their lives. And it had been, as far as she was concerned. The newspapers and talk at home were fodder for conversation in between classes, during lunch, and quieter times while on holiday.

It was then she found herself growing closer to Maugrim, not knowing why she was sow drawn to the wolf that would've otherwise, probably ripped her apart as quickly as he chased after those that dared to oppose him. But around her, he seemed to turn into that of a pet dog. And she enjoyed her time, figuring things out.

Until it all ended.

Until…

Brille squeezed her eyes shut. _No, don't think of that, _she scolded herself. _Don't let yourself fall for that again. _She opened her eyes once more, taking in the nation to the south of Narnia, but to the North of the Great Desert. Took in the hilly country of gorges and open parkland sparsely wooded with many different species of trees.

The mountains that formed the border with Narnia loomed in the distance, growing even smaller as they drove closer to the capital of Anvard. Though, incidentally, drawing them even closer toward the Calormen, the equally formidable enemy of nearly every country nearby. Brielle tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned back in her seat, letting out a low breath.

She looked over, noticing Caspian had done the same, complete with running his hands through his hair.

Even Peter noticed as he said, "That's not the way for a King to act, is it?" He tossed a teasing grin towards the Telmarine.

"I'm about to try and restore peace with a country that used to be a very close ally of the Narnians," Caspian explained in a low, subdued tone. He kept his gaze lowered to his hands as he spoke. Words hollow, conveying the sheer amount of discomfort that he wouldn't show to anyone else but those closest to him. "The very same country that made themselves independent while…while my uncle invaded and occupied as many countries as he could. Trying to exude his force on all those innocent." He shook his head. "Even doing so much as to his own people."

Peter and Susan exchanged a glance. Susan lifted her chin, eyebrows coming together, lips pursing as her blue eyes took in Caspian's discomfort. She'd been in the middle of the fight against Miraz and those that followed him, saw all the men that blindly followed his words. Or, rather, knew exactly what they were doing. Saw the realities of those that tried to stand up to their friends and family who had fallen beneath Miraz's spell and became lost to the times. A memory that only monuments in their name could remember.

"They know it wasn't you, Caspian," Peter reminded his friend. He looked fiercely at Caspian, as if daring him to tell him anything different. "They know you were trying to save your people. No matter what it took."

"If anything, they should find your want to change things, to mend broken ties with Archenland to be noble," Susan agreed. She carefully earmarked her placement in her book with a graceful placement of her finger. She held her book out for Brielle to take and carefully replace into Susan's carrier bag. "That you aren't attached to any of the ways of living your uncle made your people live under as…" Her nose wrinkled, trying to find the right word to come close to how Miraz had ruled. "Ruthless and careless as they were."

Caspian snorted. "Ruthless and careless? And yet, he continued to have as many followers as he had detractors." He shook his head. "And that's not to say what he wanted to do to me." He lifted his chin, looking out the window once more. "He wanted to kill me to ensure there was nothing standing in his way of a true rule over Telmar. And he would have succeeded if it weren't for Doctor Cornelius."

Peter swallowed hard. Blinked slowly. Worked his jaw back and forth as he figured out what to say in response to Caspian's truth. Brielle watched him all the while, wondering what it was he was going to say, what words of wisdom he'd managed to put on Caspian to take him out of his downward spiral of dark thoughts, of 'What ifs' and 'what could have beens'.

Brielle found herself stuck in that trap enough times to know how difficult it was to get taken out of it. She felt for Caspian, if she were being honest. Having met him and fought by his side, then seeing how he was to rise to power as a King, Caspian had grown used to herself and the Pevensies being around. The young man that had wanted to take revenge against his uncle and his plot to take over the throne of Telmar. If she were being honest, after hearing of Caspian's life, she wondered if there was ever a chance for him to be the King of Telmar.

It seemed, to her, that Mriaz had Caspian's head on a platter the moment he was born. Of which, she knew how it felt. Her eyes narrowed slightly when something struck through her chest, a strange feeling that she quickly pushed aside.

"We mustn't worry about that now," Susan pointed out, bringing Brielle's attention once more. "We need to focus on what is bringing us to Archenland."

"She's right," Peter agreed. He nodded to Caspian. "The matter of everything with Narnia and Telmar residing on this meeting is _much _more important." He laughed when Caspian shoved him hard on the arm. A move that would've been provided by Edmund to Peter (and vice versa) for even less. A sure sign that Caspian had become a part of the Pevensie family and vice versa. All memories of Peter's and Caspian's animosity had faded.

Brielle turned to look out the window of the carriage as it started to slow. No matter how many times she had traveled there, the sight of Anvard—the moatless castle where King Nain and Queen Aria of Archenland resides—took her breath away. All the castles surrounding the world of Narnia did so, even those of Telmar and Calormen. True, the buttresses and the spiers festooned upon the Telmarine castle was difficult for her to forget, despite the dark shadow that seemed to always cover it. Though it was the castle they lived in while Cair Paravel was rebuilt, Brielle did miss the golden aura that seemed to hover around the Pevensies' castle.

Nevertheless, Anvard held a similar golden glow. The red-brown stones that constructed the walls of the castle off-set the emerald green lawn it sat upon. Castle Anvard seemed to be bustling with life as the carriages finally pulled to a stop in front of the opening, the entryway lined with knights and noblemen and noblewoman who waited for the arrival of their guests. At the very front stood King Nain and Queen Aria, who held their heads high, nodding only slightly when the carriages were open, and Caspian and the Kings and Queens of Narnia stepped down.

Caspian, Peter, and Edmund fell in line and strode confidently toward King Nain and Queen Aria with Susan and Lucy falling in behind them, and Brielle and the servants behind them, even further back. Silence that stretched around the great lawn made way for the crunching of the dirt under their footsteps as they came closer to the rulers of the country they hoped to bring peace to.

* * *

"There is time to speak of such things," King Nain pointed out. "However, it is known for us to greet any and all that come out way with respect until that respect is taken advantage of." He nodded once. "I hope to see you at the entertainments tonight."

Peter and Edmund exchanged glances. Peter's one of concern and Edmund's one of curiosity. "Entertainments?" Peter finally repeated.

"'Why, yes." King Nain smiled. "Serious conversations can only be created once a bit of steam has been blown off, right? And as it is, Narnia used to be our allies, it would be what Aslan would want if we were to welcome you before we decided what to do moving forward." He leveled his gaze on Caspian. "Even if there are such matters we may not get past." He lifted his hands. "I shall see you all at the entertainments tonight, I hope you find Anvard a warm place to stay."

With a sweep of his arm, he turned his company to go back into the castle. The Pevensies and Caspian watched them leave, exchanging curious, if not looks of concern. All until a taller man with dark hair curling at his shoulders moved to stand in front of the group.

"By King Nain and Queen Aria, I welcome you to Anvard," he said, looking over the face of each and every person who stood in front of him. Then he looked to Brielle. "It is good to see you again, Lady Brielle."

Brielle held out her hand and allowed Silas to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. She lifted an eyebrow, watching him closely, aware of the Penvensies' eyes on her. "It is good to see you, as well, Silas." She motioned towards her friends. "May I introduce His and Her Majesties Caspian, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy of Telmar and Narnia."

"The pleasure is all mine," Silas said. "As soon it was known that peace had returned to Telmar, with Miraz's death, I was quick to ensure King Nain would give you counsel."

"And what are you to King Nain?" Peter demanded.

If Silas were offended, he didn't show it other than a quick lilt of his eyebrow. He brought his hand to his chest. "I'm the head of the King's guard," he explained. "His protection is of the utmost interest to me. I'm not sure what it is that Brielle has said about me, but I understand your hesitation to trust me…just as His Majesty is wary of trusting you."

"Yes, well, I see it as a good sign that he allows us counsel," Caspian said.

Silas merely nodded in response. He didn't acknowledge Caspian's comment, instead, changed the subject and said, "Again, we hope you enjoy the festivities. If there is anything that you need our servants have been instructed to help you become acclimated. We do have rooms readily available for you to prepare yourselves for the entertainments as well as retire to if you grow tired. I believe that are certain accommodations to be met?"

"Oh, no, you don't have to fuss over us," Lucy said quickly.

Silas sent her a charming smile. "As our guests, we have been instructed to ensure your comfort for the duration of your stay. Including guards posed at every door to ensure your safety." He nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "If there is anything you need, a list of sorts, please have any of your valets or ladies write it down and let any of our servants know. I'll personally see to it." He blinked when Brielle brandished a piece of parchment toward him. He blinked rapidly.

"Then who'll read said list to you?" Brielle with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Silas slowly smiled in response, running his fingertips over the ring that sat on his middle finger. The red gem inside seemed to pulse with energy, following his movements. Brielle held the list to him once more, hardly flinching when he snatched it from her hand fast enough to cut her fingertip.

"I hope you enjoy your stay," he drawled.

* * *

"Do you think it was a wise decision for us to come?" Edmund asked. He fastened the buttons on his dress shirt. "To leave everyone without at least one of the nobilities in case there was an attack?"

"Who would be foolish enough to want to take on our armies?" Caspian asked with a teasing smile. He shed himself of the shirt he traveled in, quickly changing into a tunic that was more suited for the festivities for that night. "Especially when we're gone? They'd know we'd come back twice as hard if the news were to come to us. And besides," he pushed his head through the hole of his shirt. "Who else would be sure to eat our hosts out of house and home?"

Peter glanced over at Caspian. Surprised to see that he was able to joke so easily when, not long before, he was distressed over what could happen if nothing were to work out, no matter how much negotiating went on. Then he turned his attention to getting dressed himself, doing his best not to look in the mirror that was set up in the corner of the bed chamber the three young men were to be dressed in.

It took everything for him not to look at the scars that festooned his body when he did so, every time he did so. Scars that came from many avenues of conflict; from him and Edmund sparring, where he would move too slow and receive a nice long slash from a blade, from the times he'd be working on his own swords work and become to exuberant in his movements, some from the times he and his siblings would wrestle with each other back on Earth. Their Earth. And the fights that he'd break up that Edmund would fall into.

Those were the easy ones to see along his sides.

It was the ones on his chest and back he slowly grew to dislike. He first wore them with a badge of pride, to remember the difficult fights he put himself through to ensure the battles against the White Witch and Jadis had the good side prevail. But as time went on, as the puffiness of the scars continued to catch his eye, the memories of the victims continued to haunt him.

Too many victims. Too many lives lost because of his stubbornness to keep pressure among Miraz's men. _It was a good decision, _he thought, tried to remind himself. To put himself back into the shoes of the Peter—the _King _Peter—that had to make split-decisions in the middle of the battle. _It was right. _He didn't allow himself to think the rest of the sentence: at the time. It was right at the time.

The Narnian army of centaurs, minotaurs, and others that believed in the word of Aslan followed Peter's words down to the letter and stayed…stayed until they were compromised, and he had no choice but to shout for them to retreat.

To fall back.

To run away.

And as Peter said the words, "Retreat, fall back," he felt his heart sink, knowing they had been compromised and were backed into a corner they couldn't fight their way out of. The sickening feeling continued to haunt him as he ran around, making sure everyone—most importantly Susan—were able to escape the fray. So much so that he hadn't realized he was wounded; had been stabbed and slashed in the back and front as his adrenaline punched through him in his haste to escape.

Didn't realize he was so wounded until he slumped over his horse on the way back to Aslan's Howl, until the news of their defeat had reached everyone, and he moved to take stock of himself, seeing blood drip to the dusty floor. His gasp of surprise had alerted Lucy to his side, using her cordial to heal him. And he had been healed. Healed of the physical pain.

Nothing would be able to take down the emotional and mental pain of knowing they'd lost and it was his decision that'd secured that loss.

"What do you think, Pete?" Edmund's voice grabbed Peter's attention.

Peter quickly dressed himself and turned to face his brother. He lifted his pale brows, pursing his lips as he tried to think of what they'd been talking about. It'd been in the back of his mind. That's right, leaving Narnia to fend for itself. Maybe…it hadn't been a good idea.

"What other choice did we have?" He asked, challenging Edmund's concern. He nodded toward Caspian. "It wasn't like we could leave Caspian at home and go ourselves, now could we?"

"I don't know." Edmund shrugged, a mischievous smile came to his face. "We could have. It might've made the trip a bit more pleasant."

Caspian scoffed. "You're just upset you were in a carriage with Lucy, eh?"

"Have you _heard _her?" Edmund shot back. "The entire way all she talked about was what she thought Archenland was like, and that Anvard was like, and what sorts of new friends she would make there." He shook his head. "If she weren't my little sister, I'd forget she was a queen."

"You know, I think the same thing about you." Peter laughed when Edmund shook his older brother's hand off his shoulder. "And, like I said, what choice did we have? We couldn't leave Caspian behind. He's the one that everyone is looking to, to regain peace between these countries."

Edmund pressed his lips together.

"Being in friendship with Archenland is a win-win situation for all," Peter explained. "We can't think about what would happen if we aren't able to return our alliance to what it was before. We must act as if we are confident things are going to work out." He took a deep breath. "Or else we'll have to figure out what else to do to ensure that no other country sees us as weak." He looked to the two, focusing his eyes on Edmund. "You must remember, Ed, when we were older? That we evaded attack from the Carlomens because of our alliance with Archenland. With Lune?"

Edmund swallowed hard and nodded.

Peter could see it was just as hard for him to still think of the friends they'd lost over the years. The magical, and talking creatures, that'd fearlessly gave up their lives, waiting for their Kings and Queens to return.

Caspian shook his head. "You really know how to take the fun out of any situation, don't you?" He asked. Peter rolled his eyes while Edmund burst out laughing. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but smile as Caspian added, "King Nain and Queen Aria determined that we're to have a good time tonight, right? It would be nothing short of insulting if we were to mope all night."

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Brielle backed away from Susan, watching her turn back and forth in the mirror.

Susan held the top of her dress toward her chest, making sure it wasn't to fall down with the back open and loosened. She held her hair up above her head, mimicking an updo that she was thinking of going with that night. Lucy watched her for a moment then shook her head.

"Honestly, Susan, people would think that you'd have a big head, the longer you look at yourself," Lucy remarked.

Susan frowned. "They would not."

"Your reflection's already taking up the whole mirror." Lucy let out a shriek when Susan turned from the mirror in a move that she was about to charge towards her little sister. Lucy, however, darted toward the other end of the bedchamber, being careful to gracefully drop herself to the armchair that sat around a smaller table, holding cups of tea. "Susan, you look beautiful," her voice turned wistful, continuing to watch her older sister's movements as she twisted and turned in the mirror.

"Thank you," Susan murmured. Then she dropped her hair down around her shoulders then moved to the bedpost, grasping it with both hands. Brielle moved behind her and started to pull at the strings that'd tighten her corset.

"I suppose all those guards noticed, too," Lucy continued.

Brielle snickered when Susan turned to look at Lucy, making Brielle force her head back toward the front with a warning look. Nevertheless, she could see Susan's shoulders tense at the accusation. "I didn't notice," she replied with a too-calm tone to her voice.

"Please," Brielle teased. "Every eligible man in Narnia would like to have a shot with you." Her lips pulled back into a smirk. "A shot with you, shot _by _you, I'm sure they aren't picky."

"Brielle!"

"Cupid is real, Susan!"

"Honestly." Susan gathered her skirts and moved away from Brielle, who followed her across the bedchamber, still tying the back of her corset. "You need to think about something else."

Brielle looked at her pointedly. "You mean you haven't thought about falling love? About getting married?" Susan looked at her out the corner of her eye, an almost withering look that made Brielle know she was treading on dangerous ground. Nevertheless, Brielle was curious. She'd seen the way Caspian and Susan had looked at each other since they met, had seen the kiss they'd shared.

Lucy seemed to agree for she said, "And what about Caspian?"

Susan turned her glare from Brielle to her little sister. "What _about _him?"

"You gave him a good kiss, didn't you?" Lucy asked. She continued to grin despite her sister's growing agitation. "I saw you!"

"Well…" Susan nodded her thanks to Brielle as she finished tying her corset and fastened the back of her dress. "I thought I was never going to return to Narnia. I thought we were to leave and never come back—"

"—And you thought that'd be a good way to say goodbye to Narnia?" Lucy giggled, making Brielle start to laugh quietly as well. "Why didn't you go ahead and kiss the minotaurs as well?"

"Why don't you?" Susan knew it was a cheap response to Lucy's teasing, the flush that came to her cheeks and chest was enough proof.

"I wish I was old enough to kiss someone," Lucy mused. Her eyes turned downcast, playing with the hem of her dress as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I remember when I was old enough to be married. I had a lot of princes after me…to be their queen."

Susan went to her sister and grabbed her hand, holding it firmly in her own. She look her sister in the eye, being sure that her words were taken seriously. "All those princes may have wanted you to be their queen, Lu, but Narnians _needs _you to be theirs."

"I know," Lucy replied with an air so haughty that Brielle was sure she'd finish her sentence with, "silly". Lucy squeezed Susan's hand. "Thanks, Su. But it's nice to think about."

Brielle hid a smile as she made sure to finish getting dressed herself. She took in Susan's emerald green dress, with gold trimming and jewels festooned around the collar, sleeves, and hem then at her own champagne colored body dress and smiled. She was home, with her friends. And they were going to get their alliance back together.

They were going ot have a good time.

"So, no suitors here, Brielle?" Lucy asked, grabbing the lady-in-waiting's attention once more. However, Brielle couldn't help but note an eagerness to Lucy's tone. She always was the one to get the most gossip out of everyone without trying very hard. "Su told me about Silas and Vincent. Silas is a very good looking man."

"Lu!" Susan laughed.

"I might be young again, but I can at least notice."

Brielle was saved from the conversation as there was a knock on the door. She called for it to open and a guard stepped inside. "It is time to start," the guard said with a hint of a smile.

With one last swish of her dress, and a pat of the golden diadem resting carefully over her parted hair, Brielle ensured Susan was ready to go before looking over Lucy's own attire. She smiled when Lucy held out her arms and spun around, letting the hem of her deep orange dress to flare around her.

"How do I look?" Lucy struck a funny pose, making Susan and Brille both laugh.

"Like a royal," Brielle said. She reached out and tipped Lucy's head back. "Like someone I'm glad to follow."

Lucy squeezed Brielle's hand and the three swept from the bedchamber and toward the grand ballroom that was to hold the feast and festivities that night. As they went, Brielle quickly whispered what was to be expected of that night, what sort of food was to be served, the kinds of dancing that would be done, anything that may be different to what they'd seen in Narnia.

Brielle brought up a hand to cover her mouth as she and Susan walked into the hall that was to hold most of the festivities. While Susan—Queen Susan the Gentle of Narnia—held her head high, gaze focused forward as her dress swept the floor, Brielle took note of all eyes around them. Eyes that sized her up as the highest queen of Narnia from age as well as beauty. The gaze that, Brielle noted, took on a hungrier gaze of those suitor age and older.

It wasn't the looks of the suitors that made Brielle quell her laughter, but that of Peter and Edmund, who stood with Caspian at the far end of the hall with expressions clearly battling between their duties as the Kings of Narnia and as Susan's brothers. The sheer banality of a brother's love and want to protect their sister couldn't be ignored despite the rights and rituals they knew to be their way of life.

Lucy, on Brielle's other hand, audibly gigged. She and Brielle exchanged a look, making Brielle press her lips together harder, trying and failing to keep from snickering. Susan's eyes briefly flickered towards Brielle, a cutting glance to those who were unlucky to find themselves on the receiving end of to understand just how steadfast and dangerous she could be despite her beauty making her appear innocuous. At least Lucy understood the entertainment value in the situation.

The three stepped to the floor, joining the other noblewomen, ladies in waiting, viscountess, old enough—or in other cases, young enough—for suiting, with Queen Aria standing in front of them. She swept her arms aside and announced the meeting of their newcomers, starting with the queens.

"I thought you said we were going to dance," Susan murmured out the side of her mouth.

"We will," Brielle said. "But not after you meet each and every eligible suitor who may want to court you." She smiled as Susan's features slowly tightened with each and every one of Brielle's words, taking on the men that slowly yet steadily moved from their places across the floor to meet with the women on the floor. "I think you said something about wanting to be properly introduced to Vincent and Silas."

Susan parted her rosy lips, wiping away the look of horror that threatened to come up. A look that wouldn't be becoming of a queen who was currently in a very public event with all eyes on her as the fate of Archenland's and Narnia's treaty hung in the balance.

"Brielle, remind me later to have a word with you," Susan murmured.

"I love you, too," Brielle replied sweetly, making Lucy giggle louder.

"Oh, go on, Susan," Lucy pressed. "I'm sure there's _someone _you'll find interesting tonight."

Susan shot her another sharp glance over her shoulder, before turning a smile—a fake one, Brielle noted—to the first suitor brave enough to step forward and extend his hand to the queen's. A hand, Brielle noted, was dripping with sweat.

Susan was definitely going to get her for that later.

Not after Vincent—who stood shorter than Silas with a mop of blonde hair and a goatee to match—went to Brielle and extended his hand to her, sweeping low in an almost bow as he did so. Brielle studied him cautiously, before allowing her hand to take his, making him immediately correct himself and stand up straight, pulling her into his chest. He placed a hand on her lower back, shifting the other up into her hand and aligned his neck and shoulders properly, making Brielle follow suit.

With the start of the music, he took a step back, making her fall in line with him, and the two moved ot the music that started up.

"I need to speak with you," he said.

Her eyes landed on the sapphire hanging around his neck, only just visible at her angle as he swept her around the floor. Something settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew she could avoid them for so long. "I don't doubt it,"

* * *

**A/N:** Aww, some bonding with the girls and the guys. But we've got some drama coming up soon, not just with the potential alliance between Narnia and Archenland, but with Brielle, Silas, and Vincent. Thanks for all the interest so far you guys! :)

**Cheers,**

**-Riley**


	6. Chapter 5: She Is My Queen

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Peter smiled as he grasped Lucy tighter to him, lifting her up enough so that she could stand on his feet as they moved across the crowded floor of Anvard's great hall. Even with the tight space they had to move around, Peter still managed to make Lucy's grin widen as he spun her around in the wide circles. Lucy giggled quietly, tightening her grasp along her brother's hands. She leaned her head back to look at him, her eyes shining with the amount of adoration that only Peter seemed to bring out in her.

"Pete," she said in a mocking tone of frustration. "I don't need to dance on your feet. I'm not_ that_ young." She paused, then shrugged. "Actually, I haven't been as young as when we first went into the wardrobe in a long time."

"Yes, but if you're going to be dancing all night, then you need to be sure to rest your feet at some point," Peter replied.

Lucy lifted an eyebrow. "All night, huh?"

"That's right."

"And who am I to be dancing with?"

"Me," Peter replied with a haughty lift of his chin. He twirled her around, his smile widening at her laugh of excitement as he did so.

"You?" She replied. Peter nodded. "All night?"

"Absolutely. There's no way I'm going to let any old suitor whisk you off your feet and take you away from me."

Peter smiled as Lucy rolled her eyes but continued to giggle appreciatively. She tightened her grasp on Peter's hand and jumped off his feet, her heels clacking on the ground. Oh, how excited she'd been to show off her new heels to him that night. Another way to remind her that she was, in fact, growing up.

Peter lifted his gaze and looked around the ballroom to glance at Edmund and Susan as well. (He couldn't help but smile when he saw how affronted Edmund was being pulled away from the turkey leg he'd happily been chowing on to dance, his smile half-wilting to a frown when he saw how close Caspian was holding Susan as they danced). He could see the differences in them as well; Edmund wasn't as quick to argue and had a level-head when it came to figure out different tactics in battle that Peter'd never come up with. Honestly, he wouldn't know what to do if he didn't have Ed by his side to let him know he was continuously there whenever he needed. And Susan wasn't just the 'logical one' who liked to play guessing games with words form the dictionary, she was a sharpshooter at archery and faced enemies with as much bravery and knowledge as anyone Peter could hope to have in his army despite how much she greatly disliked killing.

Then, of course, there was Lucy. She grew up in Narnia as the rest of them had, and when she turned back, Lucy well and truly turned back into a child. It hit her the most, Peter realized, having lost Narnia and everything they knew there. Mr. Tumnus, the Beavers…everything that worked into her love of imagination and fairy tale. A world practically made for her and it was unceremoniously ripped away when falling back through the wardrobe.

He'd watched her carefully after their return. Worried her adventures would've made her too disillusioned with what their home lives had to offer them. (Peter certainly had felt the same upon his first few days back in school). Lucy seemed to remember her enjoyment of 'real life' but he knew from watching her, watching her small moments of turning wistful, where she'd sigh and rest her chin in her hands, watching the animals of their world go about their business that she was not-so-secretly waiting for the day they went back.

Now it seemed that they were to stay in Narnia…he'd never seen her so happy.

"You mean, you don't want me to start my own family?" Lucy teased. "Rule my own kingdom?" She tilted her head, batting her eyelashes. "I'd love to have you along, Pete, but I don't think there'd be much room within my castle." At Peter's outraged look, she explained further, "I mean, I need some place to keep the letters from all my suitors."

Peter laughed and the whisked her around in another swell of the music that blared through the ballroom. It wasn't music that was his favorite, nor was dancing, really, but being able to allow himself time to really his position as a king among his brothers, sister, and best friend? A weight being lifted off his shoulders wasn't enough to explain how relieved her felt.

"Do you think you could do me a favor?"

Peter glanced down at Lucy, reminding himself he didn't have to tilt his head too far to do so. He paused, noticing the expression of mischief that flashed through her eyes, making him inwardly groan, wondering what was coming. The last time Lucy'd looked at him like that, he somehow managed to find himself working in one of the plays she'd imagined in her head. Of course, that had been before they'd been sent to the countryside from England due to the way, but he became very worried when she asked him.

As it was, no matter how old she became, he would still recognize the expression of sheer mischief in her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. No matter what, he was always going to fall for it. He couldn't keep the exasperation and suspicion from his voice when he asked, "What is it, Lu?" still eyeing her, wondering what it was that she wanted.

_If it has anything to do with dressing up as Aslan and running around like a bloody lion…?_ Peter waited patiently—albeit impatiently—for her response. Lucy turned away, her auburn hair striking her in the cheeks, trying—and failing—to appear innocent.

"Why'd you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm up to something."

"Because you are." Peter stuck his neck out, giving her an earnest look. A brotherly expression that was just short of him saying, "Out with it." As special as their relationship was, there was only so far his buttons could be pressed. "Come on, Lu, you know I know you better than that."

"Then if you know me so well, you'll know I only ask of this to help a friend," Lucy said. Peter didn't quite believe her. There was still a suspicious lilt to her tone he couldn't quite place. Nor could he say he liked. She was getting better at hiding her true intentions of things until she needed to let other people in. It was a well-used negotiation tactic she'd even managed to use to her advantage when her opinion about the reconstruction of Cair Paravel and democratic issues were asked about.

But, often, Lucy had her own agenda of amusement she liked to play her hand at. And it didn't seem like her time in Archenland was going to change that.

_And to think I thought I was doing her a favor by dancing with her, _Peter thought. A social aspect of kingdom life, it made things easier in terms of meeting with and talking to those he wouldn't otherwise have the means to meet with. Though that didn't quite mean he was ready to meet with every eligible woman he could court or eventually choose to be his consort. Lucy's presence seemed to steer many of them away, but there were more pressing matters on his mind.

Such as the spirit of a wolf that didn't seem to stop lurking through the shadows of his mind.

"I want you to dance with Brielle," Lucy continued, as if Peter hadn't said anything. As a matter of fact, her tone was so lofty and 'casual' that Peter was sure it would crack from the strain of her misguided innocence. "Just help her out a little." She tilted her head towards the other side of the dance floor. "That knight looks like he might be bothering her."

Peter sighed.

No.

Hard stop.

He'd already been coerced into one dance, and as he wasn't courting anyone at the moment, the one dance—and maybe one other one with Susan—was enough for him. Especially when he knew dancing with Brielle meant there was the chance he wouldn't hold his tongue to shoot back any of the subtle barbs she sent him. Something he couldn't quite help since having met her. She reminded him of Edmund in that way, though not as petulant. (No one could beat Ed in that sense).

"I'd much sooner dance with Ed," Peter said flatly.

Edmund, who swept by with a barely concealed expression of repugnance while holding a young maiden who appeared particularly moony eyed over him, said, "Not on your life, Pete." He looked back and forth between him and Lucy, adding under his breath, "You're not even good looking enough for me to even entertain the thought."

Lucy giggled quietly. There was a change in the swell of music and Peter stepped back, holding an arm behind his back while extending the other, allowing Lucy to twirl around him, like an orbiting planet around the sun. Just as they'd done when they were young kids and Lucy insisted on him letting her dance on his feet to music playing from their father's radio.

When they came back together, Lucy batted her eyelashes up at her oldest brother saying, "Please?" Rather, if Peter were being ore truthful, wheedled. "For me?"

Peter sighed, turning his glance to the ceiling, muttering under his breath all the while Lucy grinned. There was nothing that'd come between Peter's fondness for his youngest sister, even something he wasn't too particularly fond of.

"Alright," he said. He stuck his finger in front of her face, wagging it like a parent to a child. In that moment, he felt a brief pang in his heart for his parents back home. Wondered about the life they'd left behind and how much time had passed for them. Wondered if they knew what was happening to their children and how their own lives would then change. "But I better not see you meddling with anyone else," he warned.

"I promise," Lucy said, too quickly for Peter's liking. With strength Peter was surprised Lucy had, she took the lead of the dance and whisked him across the dance floor toward Brielle and her suitor. With expert timing, Lucy let go of Peter, slightly spinning him as he stopped next to the two.

Brielle's gaze shifted toward him, starting off annoyed then quickly turning grateful. She then looked back at the knight, who seemed to tighten his grasp against her when he noticed Peter. Peter every so subtly brought himself to his full height, narrowing his eyes just so. He couldn't help but pull his lips back into a smirk, seeing the knight practically fold in on himself, cowered under Peter's gaze.

"May I cut in?" Peter asked calmly, bowing as he did so before holding out his hand.

Brielle practically leapt from the knight's grasp and grabbed onto Peter's hand. Without a backwards glance, she allowed herself to be swept into Peter's arms as the music changed to a rather slow tune filled with violins and deep cellos notes.

"Thank you," she said, heaving a sigh.

"You're welcome," Peter replied. "So, what was wrong with that one?" Brielle's eyebrows raised as she took in Peter's question. He thought for a moment. "Since I've known you, you've always found something, some little _thing _wrong with everyone who has had some sort of interest in courting you. One's eyebrows were too thick, one had eyes that were too far apart, one's neck was too short—"

"His head only had a space between his shoulders," Brielle defended herself. "I can look past a lot of things, but having no neck is not one of them." As if to prove her point, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin in a way Peter realized was mocking the way he'd just imposed his presence upon the knight moments before. "But thank you for noticing my few suitors."

Peter shrugged. "I've noticed the ones for Susan and Lucy." He smiled to himself. "Even Ed, when he's not paying attention. I have my own opinions."

"So you've got opinions on everyone else's suitors but yours?"

"I don't care to notice."

"Of course you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You only carry maps and swords in your brain, remember?"

"Better than parties and luxury," he shot back. "There's more to life than the social lives of everyone around you." He watched as Brielle raised her eyebrows in a wordless expression of disbelief that made him chuckle.

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Brielle spoke once more. "Are we really doing this?" Brielle asked. Her head piece sparkled underneath the lights as she shook her head. "Are we really slow-dancing?"

Peter breathed out through his nose, tried not to focus on the faces around him as they continued to swirl around the dance floor. More specifically, tried not to focus on Lucy, who was then bouncing over to Caspian with the same expression of mischief on her face that he'd caught her with.

_I Knew it'd only last a few minutes, _Peter thought. He turned his gaze back to Brielle and finally replied, "More like rescuing a damsel in distress."

Brielle let out a very unladylike snort. "I'm not a damsel, and I certainly was not in distress."

"That's not the way I saw it."

Brielle lifted her chin defiantly. "Then you need to get your eyes examined." She smiled wickedly, suddenly making Peter afraid of the time Lucy was spending with Susan's lady-in-waiting in case she ever managed to become even more devious than she already was. "I've heard there's some space open in the infirmary. With that pretty nursemaid who's always asking about you."

Peter's eyebrows rose in surprise. And…amusement? He couldn't help the slight smile that came to his face. As much as Brielle annoyed him, she was different than all the others that worked closely with him, his siblings, and Caspian. Maybe spoke a little _too _familiarly with them, but then again, she'd experienced more with the than others had.

Who would take on their duties to be by the side of their royal as fiercely as she did? He was more than surprised to see her stand up to Susan's side with a longsword in hand, ready to lay her life down for her best friend with—what Peter thought at the time—was little to no training. He'd been surprised to find that Susan and Lucy had been training her in secret, in case there was ever an invasion or a broke out.

And such a war it was, facing off against Miraz and his army to protect Caspian and return the country of Telmar to his rule. Peter swallowed hard, still seeing the picture of his fallen army in his head, all screaming for help while simultaneously warning him and his siblings to get as far away from the ambush they'd been tricked into.

Peter shook his head, turning his attention back to Brielle, who's lips pulled back into a smirk. He blinked once and feigned calm as he asked, "Are you calling me a child?" while trying not to sound petulant and prove her point.

Brielle shrugged. "I'm just saying she wouldn't mind having your company."

"Is this what you lot do whenever there are no men around?" Peter teased. "Gossip and spread rumors?"

"We learn, too," Brielle defended herself. "We like to educate ourselves, Peter Pevensie." She foced her hand around to poke him in the chest. "Not everything is about who may or may not be sneaking off to certain bedchambers when they have the chance." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Though they not be as entertaining, I'll give you that."

Just as he'd done with Lucy before, Peter stood back, moving an arm behind his back while he extended his other one. This time, instead of spinning around him, Brielle carefully twirled herself into his chest, her back pressed against his. She kept her hand atop his that sat on her waist, and the two rotated in a wide, slow circle.

"Oh yes, what could be more entertaining than sitting around whispering, giggling, and filling your heads with talks of lipstick and dresses?" Peter lightly teased. He turned Brielle around to face him and, like the rest of the dance floor, placed his hands on her waist to lift her up in the air.

Their eyes met as Peter held her into the air, before slowly lowering her back down. She slid down his arms, steadying herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, faces inches apart. Peter swallowed hard, noticing Brielle's eyes flicker over his face, as if unable to find something to focus on. The side of her mouth turned up, face softening. Peter finally let Brielle back to her feet. Then the two backed away from each other to end the dance, him with a sweeping bow and her with a sweeping curtsy their eyes still on each other.

"Your dancing skills," Brielle finally replied with a smirk. Her eyes shifted behind him for a quick second then back to him. She grasped the skirts of her dress and lifted them to ease her way to traverse across the ballroom. "Now, if you'll excuse me, if appears that the King is about to call for the feast to begin."

"If Ed hasn't eaten everything in sight already."

Peter laughed. "Exactly."

* * *

Silas's ruby and Vincent's sapphire glowed the second Brielle stepped into the darkened chamber just off the great hall of Anvard. She was sure the Amber broach around her neck was growing as well. A similar reaction when any witch and warlock were around each other. Those of a significant power, anyway.

Silas spoke the moment the door closed behind her. "The King is looking much more alive than we'd expected him to be at this stage," he said with unbridled frustration.

"What did you expect me to do?" Brielle shot back. "Poison him immediately after Miraz fell? That would've brought more conflict to Narnia and Telmar. It's not what we need to move forward." She gestured with her hand. "As for tonight, it would be suicide to plot anything tonight."

"There are plenty around that would have the means and the motive to want to take down the High King of Narnia," Vincent pointed out. He rubbed his goatee, the grating sound of his whiskers against his fingertips made Brielle wince. "Assassination attempts aren't unheard of."

"_Before _Narnia and Archenland can renew their friendship?" Brielle pointed out. She looked over as there was a squawking sound, flinched when something dark whizzed by her head and circled the room before landing on Silas's shoulder. Brielle forced a disgruntled—and very unladylike sigh—through her nose. Right. Merek, his familiar.

Merek cawed, spread his wings wide, and settled onto Silas's shoulder. Brielle's eyes shifted around the darkened room, looking for Fendrel, Vincent's familiar; a hare. She was sure it was to be nearby. They were never too far away from their wards. Her upper lip curled, suddenly feeling a bloom of pain in her chest, like a rose blooming from new Earth.

Vincent grinned, seeing the anger pass over her face. "I see we haven't lost you yet."

"You should never doubt me," Brielle said confidently. Her hands clenched into fists before she folded her arms over her chest, arms digging into the corset of her dress. She winced at the discomfort. And it wasn't just from the dress. "You have no idea what it's like," She hissed. "To have a target on your back."

"Of course, we do," Vincent said with a scoff. Silas, on the other hand, reached out and smacked his palm against the nearby wall, making Brielle and Vincent both jump. "Silas," Vincent warned. He reached out to grasp his friend's shoulder, but Silas wrenched it out of his grasp.

Merek cawed loudly, a warning caw. Silas briefly closed his eyes and took in a breath. "What about the others?"

Brielle stiffened. She knew what was coming. "What about them?" She hedged.

"A lady-in-waiting is the best means to bring us closer to their majesties," Silas continued, moving closer to Brielle. Moving and speaking like a slithering snake, slowly searching for the words that's strike her down. "We get to the queen, we get to the king."

"I already told you," Brielle breathed. "Susan has nothing to do with this."

"Susan has everything to do with this. She's the one who made it so that Maugrim isn't with you today."

"That was Peter."

"Has Susan not gotten so lost—"

Brielle shook her head. Brought her hands up to press against her temples, knocking her headpiece askew. "She is my queen and I am her servant. I am in service to her," Brielle said. "Whatever that means, whatever it costs me."

"You're costing us the chance to rule Archenland!" Silas snarled. Brielle shook her head. They didn't get it. Didn't understand. Or, which was worse, didn't trust her despite as long as they'd known each other. As long as they'd known their lineage as witches and warlocks from the Northern Witches.

She moved to leave, but Silas's grasp on her wrist stopped her. All at once, Brielle's anger burst forward. "Keep your hand off me!" She snarled, finally breaking her façade. "You have no idea who you're dealing with!" All in one movement, Brielle grasped her wand from her ankle holster and spun to point it at the

Brielle's fervor dropped halfway through her movement when she spotted Silas and Vincent both pointing their own wands directly at her. Directly at her heart. Their broaches glowing brilliantly in the otherwise darkened room. Brielle's eyes narrowed, flickered back and forth over their faces. Slowly lowered her own wand.

"Who _are _we dealing with?" Vincent demanded.

"Don't forget," Silas warned, voice turning horrifying low. "We have ways of making things work in our favor. With or without you."

A chill ran down Brielle's spine.

She frowned, clenched her hands into fists, tried not to let the feeling of defeat overwhelm her. Because she knew Silas and Vincent were as strong as she could be, if her familiar were still alive.

* * *

**A/N: **You are going to see more of Peter's POV as this story goes on, considering he's the deuteragonist…but part of me kind of wants it to still only be from Brielle's POV. I may have it where it's mostly hers and then his when it's needed. Idk, I haven't quite decided yet.

So, yeah, if you follow me on tumblr, I cheated with this chapter once again. Lol. But a lot of the prompts I've been getting for Brielle works with what I've already had planned for the story as it is.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for the wait on an update, I'm glad you all are enjoying it. I hope to update more frequently as time goes on. I've got a lot planned for Brielle, Caspian, and the Pevensies.

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	7. Chapter 6: A Look Into The Past I

**Chapter Six: **A Look Into The Past I

* * *

Brielle sighed as she unlocked the front door to her home. Stepping inside, she peered cautiously in the murky darkness, looking for any signs of movement in the deep shadows, listening for any indication that another person was there. Other than the loud snores that worked through the halls toward the front room, the house was silent.

Another sigh escaped Brielle's lips, this time one of sadness. She couldn't help the pang that came to her chest, the familiar feeling that she could never quite shake when she could no longer avoid returning home. Brielle walked further into the house, being careful to take off her shoes and place them neatly by the door.

She closed the door behind her and made sure to do so quietly. Loud noises didn't always make for a good day. And to think, she had been invited to go to Linda's for a sleepover. To hide out while the rumors of potential bombings were to come down. A place safer than her own home, she knew. But, had to turn it down. With her mother working and her father…

Brielle closed her eyes, leaning back against the door. She let out another long breath and frowned, tried not to pout. There was another party she was missing. One of the best parties she could've gone to. The last one had been a blast, going into town, to visit the markets, buy sodas, new jewelry with the allowances they saved up. Giggle and gossip as they always knew how. She always enjoyed the time she got to spend with her best friends.

But she understood, always understood why she was the one who had to miss out. But sometimes wished she was able to be a kid, to be a teen girl and giggle over some of the military men that trooped through town. To be normal and not some sort of…caretaker.

Brielle tip-toed through the house, being sure to take a large step over the squeaky floorboard that betrayed her movement, would stop the snoring in a second. Chewing her lower lip, she continued forward, pausing in the doorway to the living room. She leaned against the doorframe and looked towards the recliner that was set up in front of the TV. Watched as her father snored loudly beneath it, curled up into his side, clutching his blanket tightly to his body. Like that of a child, waiting for his mother to tuck him in completely.

He slept restlessly. Moving every few seconds. Jerking her head back and forth as if he was hearing bombs exploding in the distance. Brielle paused, lifting her chin to listen hard. Maybe he was hearing something he couldn't. _Maybe his time out there…fighting for us…_Brielle shook her head. Closed her eyes. _Don't. Don't think about that. _Don't think about what could've been.

Don't think about what was no more.

Brielle walked to her father and leaned over him. She reached out her hand, placing it on his forehead. No fever, and yet his fever dream was doing more damage than anything he'd seen out fighting for their country in the War. Though, as far as she knew of what he'd been able to tell them. Sometimes, when he got into his moods…

Her father turned, resting his cheek in Brielle's hands. His eyes fluttered open and looked at her, unseeing, before blinking shut once more. He rolled to his other side and pulled the blanket up higher over his shoulder.

"Hi, daddy," she whispered. Then dropped her hand back to her side and went to the kitchen.

She opened the fridge, wincing as the noise sounded thunderous compared to the light snores her father continued to emanate. She searched inside for a few moments, grabbing some materials to make a sandwich, then went to the pantry for chips to go along with it. Brielle hummed to herself, making quick work of the snack, separating the food onto two plates. She thoroughly cleaned everything back up before walking the plates back to the living room.

"Bri?"

She jumped, nearly throwing her plates of food across the floor when seeing her father standing in the middle of the carpet. He rubbed the back of his head, blinking rapidly as he looked around the living room. Brielle frowned, watching the familiar twisted expression that came to his face, the seconds passing slowly.

Slowly, she set the plates on the coffee table, ready to go back for it later. As it was, she didn't feel as hungry as she had seconds ago. She'd get it later, he probably hadn't noticed she'd made more than enough for him in his state anyway.

She sucked in a deep breath, lifting her chin, braided pigtails falling behind her shoulders. Cringed a little, knowing what was to come. Hoped she'd timed things out this time, in case she couldn't stop it. Her father stepped toward her, his eyes eyeing her suspiciously as he asked, "Where've you been all night?"

There were a few moments of silence, in which he waited for Brielle to respond. Gathering her thoughts, she took a deep breath and said brightly, "I was at school, daddy, you know that." She waited, hoping the light in his eyes would come back. The familiar twinkle that'd mean he was about to burst out laughing, assuring her he knew she was at school and he was only kidding.

Like he did sometimes.

The other times, like that moment, were the ones she worried about the most. They were happening too often for her's or her mother's liking. But without the money for proper care…

"Don't lie to me, Bri," he said. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Eyes grew wild, continued to bounce around, unable to focus on something for more than a few seconds. "I know you've been out there all night! Running around with those bloody fat heads you like to give yourself, to. Just like those floosies out there!" He gestured vaguely with his hand.

Brielle backed away, holding her hands up defensively. She looked toward the front door, to her father, then back to the door. _Come on, mum. Where are you? _"You're such a slag. There's no point in denying it! I know the truth, and your lies never work on me like they do on your mum!"

He punctuated his comments by taking a few, jerky steps towards her. Brielle continued to step back, for each one he stepped forward. All until she bumped into the coffee table behind her, wincing when there was a loud crash behind her. She whirled around and sighed, finding her lamp had crashed to the floor. All at once, she heard al oud sound and turned back to see her father had dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Dad!" Brielle hurried to her father's side. She grabbed onto his arm, tried to pull him from the ground but found it was like pulling at dead weight. "Daddy, come on! You're home. Everything's fine!" But her father continued to shout at the top of his lungs, a world away.

"Brielle!" She felt a sharp tug on her arm and turned to find her mother had ditched her things by the front door—there was a haphazard trail leading to where they stood in the living room—and hauled her away from her father.

"Mum!"

Her mother cupped her face in her hands, running her thumbs over the apples of Brielle's cheeks. Eyes searching her face, looking for any injuries or fear. When she was sure things were alright, Brielle's mother smiled a soft smile and pressed a tender kiss to her daughter's forehead. "It's alright, love. Just go upstairs. Take a bath. Everything'll be alright."

"What about…?"

Brielle's question died on her lips. It was the same argument—conversation—they had when the rumblings of the next bombing were to happen. The same scenario, growing worse as the days passed. Brielle nodded, kissed her mother on the cheek, then went upstairs, the stress leaving her shoulders with each step she took.

Walked away from the situation, knowing it would be repeated. It may not be the next day, or the day after that, but soon enough for Brielle to worry every time she left the house that she'd return to the notice to leave for the countryside, as well as her worry that she'd return to an empty house with no sign of her mother or father.

Brielle went to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She flipped on the light and studied her reflection; brown hair pulled back into braids behind her shoulders, dark brown eyes that reflected the fear and worry that slowly, very slowly, receded. Her lip was split and puffy and there was a little bit of blood at the split in her lip. When had she bit her lip that hard?

She took a deep breath and rolled back her shoulders, lifted her head the way she was always instructed to. "People are going to talk, love. Now that your father…" she always trailed off at that part. "People are going to talk, but you need to make sure those blokes don't get you down. Keep your head high."

Brielle nodded and turned on the bath water. She flipped through a magazine as the tub filled off, earmarking the pages she would use—making note of the new hairstyle and makeup she wanted to use the next time she could go to Linda's. She made a mental note to bring the magazine in to school. Reagan sighed and dropped her shirt before turning toward the bathtub and turning on the water.

Finally, when it was full, she turned off the faucet. A smile came to her face when she heard the sound of her parents' laughter from downstairs. Back to normal. As if nothing had happened. Quickly, Brielle undressed and slid down into the tub. She leaned back to allow her face to slide under the water, ready to scrub off the makeup she'd put on that day.

Allowed the water to envelope her, allowed it to let the silky strands of her hair to float around her, to tickle the sides of her face and neck. She felt herself sinking, falling, floating. A tinging pull that washed over her and continued to bring her down.

Down.

Down.

Finally, lungs burning, Brielle opened her eyes. She winced, recoiling against the sting that immediately registered. Opened her mouth to cry out and saw silvery bubbles erupt from her and float up.

Up.

Up.

Watery sunlight filtered through the water, streaking toward her. Bathed her in its glow. Warmed the cool, but rapidly warming water around her. Slowly turning, Brielle took in the fish swimming around her, beneath her, beside her.

Her lungs burned.

More bubbles erupted from her mouth.

Reaching her arms up, Brielle kicked the surface, taking in a deep breath of air as she broke the water. She looked around and saw the beach and the castle that was in the distance, waves of water lapping at her face. Salt burning against her split lip as she treaded water.

Brielle turned to glance behind her, taking in the ocean, then faced forward once more. "There's no way…" she breathed to herself as she treaded water. "That I have a beach in my bathroom."

It took a while before she made it to shore, fighting against the strong waves took more out of her than she'd expected, though the beach looked close. Every time she slowed, she floated on her back, slowly treaded water with her arms to keep herself from slipping beneath the waves once more. It gave her time to think, too much time. Wondered if her father had actually gone out of control and done something to hurt her.

He'd never hurt her before.

Always promised he wouldn't.

Maybe it was the first time.

She thought that all the way until she made it to the beach, the warm grains of sand sticking to her soles, sticking between her toes, scratching her as she wiggled them, working to clear the annoying feeling from between her toes. She looked up once more, squinting against the bright light that reflected against the melting snow hanging off the trees at the top of the slopes that led to the beach.

She continued to look around, she looked up towards the castle and saw a couple of horses running off into the distance. Something pulled in her stomach, something drawing her into the woods. Sso she walked, and walked, almost as if in a trance, only coming to a stop when she heard a twig snap nearby.

Instead of fearing what was coming, she turned to the source of the sound, moving closer. "Hello?" She called.

All at once, the underbrush shot aside and a teen boy about her age nearly crashed into her. His eyes widened as he stopped short of smacking directly into her. His arms wind milled, hoping to keep himself upright. Either that, or from the weight of the expensive dress coat that draped over his arms, Brielle realized. He regained his composure and started to say something, mouth opening, then clamped shut once more.

Eyes widened.

Cheeks bloomed.

A vein in his neck throbbed, Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His gaze flickered over hers before he turned to the side, bringing his hand up to shield his face. Then he thought better of it, dropping his hand to his side and quickly shedding himself of the dress coat. Twisting his arms like a pretzel, he used his right hand to shield his face and the left to hand her the jacket.

"Here," he mumbled, fumbling to keep the jacket off the ground. It threatened to fall from his trembling hands. "Take this."

Brielle took the coat and slipped her arms inside. She tightened it around her, feeling the silkiness against her skin and felt her cheeks heat up, realization striking her as the…as the sort of trance washed away from her. Almost immediately it was replaced with relief at finding someone to help her.

"Peter!"

Brielle looked aside, hearing the name called. 'Peter' immediately whipped his head around, leaning back and forth as he looked for the source of the voices. Brielle strained to see through the underbrush, it took a few moments before they shot open revealing two younger girls; one with long dark hair, deep blue eyes, and lips as rosy as her cheeks, the other much younger with auburn hair and a face full of freckles. Both their eyes widened when they spotted Brielle.

"Peter?" The older girl asked, glancing at him, then at her, then back to him.

Lucy on the other hand, titled her head as she gazed at Brielle. Her lips pulled back into a tiny smile. She glanced at Peter, then back at Brielle, giggling to herself. Quickly, she composed herself, tucking her hair behind her ears, and stepped forward, almost with a regal air to say, "I'm Lucy. This is Susan and Peter." Her nose wrinkled a little. "Who are you?"

"I'm…" She quickly noted Lucy's English accent, felt more at home. Brielle shook her head, eyebrows coming together. "This isn't Essex, is it?"

"Essex?!" Susan repeated the word incredulously. Her blue eyes widened, eyebrows rising to exchange a glance with Peter, who did everything he could not to look in her direction. Susan gently shook her head and looked to Brielle with a peculiar expression, as if he were trying to figure Brielle out. Similar to the looks Brielle and her friends would give the army boys that rolled through the town, trying to determine how old they were. Scrutinizing, but not unfriendly. Rational. Realistic. "No…This is Narnia."

"Narnia?" Brielle replied. She briefly rolled her eyes. "Sounds like a bloody makeup brand."

"Narnia isn't anywhere near Essex," Peter explained, voice turning low. Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face her, keeping his eyes straight on hers. His hands fidgeted at his sides. "And…if you're here for the same reason we are…" he swallowed hard, hand sliding toward the sword that hung off his hip, fingertips tapping against the hilt. "I don't think you're going back anytime soon."

Brielle looked to Susan and Lucy, who both nodded. Brielle dropped her gaze to her feet, lifted them again, worked to ask a question. To get some sort of explanation. Found she had no words that came to mind. Susan stepped forward, resting a hand on Brielle's shoulder. "There's a lot to explain," she said gently. "We're not going to hurt you." She looked to Peter, lifting an eyebrow. He paused, then dropped his hand from the hilt of the sword.

"What's your name?" Lucy asked again.

"Brielle."

Susan smiled once more. She wrapped the coat tighter around Brielle then looked to Peter and Lucy. She gazed around at the continuously melting snow, breathing hard, suddenly appearing distraught. They were searching for something, Brielle realized. Or for someone, when they found her.

Susan smiled to Brielle. "We'll get you some clothes and explain to you what's going on."

* * *

**A/N: **And here you have it, the first look into how Brielle arrived in Narnia and met the Pevensies. What a memorable entrance. Fun fact, this part was so well-received from my first Narnia attempt, _Slipping Away, _that it's one of the things that hasn't changed much into this story. Of course I cleaned things up and made sure the timeline worked for it to fit, but I absolutely had to keep it. Not to mention, it gives her some characterization!

There will be other chapters within this story that will slowly show Brielle's past with the Pevensies and how it, and Maugrim, tie into her present. What do you think of that tiny ship tease? 😉

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	8. Chapter 7: Preliminary Negotiations

**Chapter Seven: **Preliminary Negotiations

* * *

The festivities continued long into the night, with the Pevensies, Caspian, and Brielle not retiring to the bedchambers waiting for them until the moon was high in the star filled sky. Peter hadn't realized how long the night had gone on until he retired to his bedchamber, dragging his feet.

His feet throbbed after a night full of dancing, his stomach was full of the food the Archenlanders continued to bestow upon their guests—he couldn't help but take an extra helping of Turkish Delight to rub it in Edmund's face a little—and his head swam from the wine he'd partaken in that night. He was old enough, more than old enough as he'd grown up in Narnia once before. But it'd been a long time, it hit him faster than he'd expected.

And, King Nain had insisted. Peter hesitated at first, looking toward Caspian to see what he was to do as well, but having been one to be born and raised in Narnia, Caspian hadn't worried about the offer—or of the possible offense of turning it down—taking his goblet and taking a hearty swig. It may have been, in some way, Peter's want to be seen as a rightful king, or a means of competitiveness, that had to do the same.

Finally, he dropped into bed, head heavily hitting the pillow.

He fell into a restless slumber his dreams starting out empty, void of any color. Then slowly filled in with swirls and stars that morphed until they replayed memories of a life he'd previously lived. Memories of his first foray into Narnia. Twisted memories. They played out the same, at the beginning, then suddenly shifted. His frolicking in the snow with his siblings went from a snowball fight to unbridled rage toward his brother and his attitude that had him grabbing Edmund around the throat and punching him mercilessly in the face.

The memories of meeting the beavers ended with their slaughtering by Jadis's secret police. The memories of meeting Father Christmas morphed into Jadis running them down with her sleigh, her triumphant laughter filling her ears. The memories of escaping Maugrim and the rest of the secret police across the ice turned to him, Susan, and Lucy drowning with Peter shooting away, gasping for air. Sweat dripped down his face, rolling to his chin.

He wiped them away, fought to catch his breath. He looked across the darkened room and out the window that opened over the courtyard of the castle. From a distance, he could see servants starting up the day for the castle and country to be run. Saw carriages being prepared and the livestock being tended to along with the light pinks and purples that swirled along the skyline.

It wouldn't be long before the day started.

It'd be best if he got the most amount of sleep he could, Peter reasoned. If there was to be a long day of negotiations with King Nain and Queen Aria, they needed to be in top form. But sleep wouldn't come to meet him once more, or, maybe, he was afraid of what sleep would bring him that time. If it managed to twist and turn his memories of some happier and more triumphant moments in Narnia, he could only imagine what his mind would show him of the raid on Miraz's castle.

The same castle that he and his siblings now called 'home' as they waited for Cair Paravel to complete its restoration. Peter frowned, briefly closing his eyes as he had to do every day he woke up there. Had to prepare himself for the harsh memories that were to come of the fallen magical creatures who would gratefully and willingly follow him into battle. He could still hear the minotaur's screams as he worked to hold up the closing gate and was filled with arrows.

Could still hear the screams of the Narnian army as they were struck down by the Telmarines who were working to defend their castle. If he was ever taking a walk around the castle grounds, he could, sometimes, see the rust colored streaks of blood left behind by those who courageously gave up their lives to help him, Susan, Caspian, and Edmund get out before they found their untimely deaths as well.

He closed his eyes, steadied his breath, tried to think about something else. Anything else, but found his mind turning back to the day he worked to figure out what it was Narnia had for him.

"Aslan," he'd said, a mere boy of fourteen whose only concern was to find his brother and return home. Not caring, one way or the other, about a magical world he still couldn't quite believe he found himself in. Let alone with a majestic lion who could speak. Who tried to remind him of the prophecy that bestowed him and his siblings. "I'm not what people think I am."

He was just a boy. Just a boy who had wandered into a closet after playing a game of hide and seek, trying to keep the trouble they'd most certainly be in when Mrs. Macready after an ill-fated game of cricket. They were just trying to have fun during one of the sunny days in the rain-filled countryside and ended up on some sort of quest to find their brother after he snuck off.

"Peter Pevensie," Aslan replied calmly, making Peter glance at him in surprise. Formerly of Finchley." If it were possible for lions to smile, Aslan did just that, his voice taking on a tone of amusement as he added, "Beaver also mentioned you planned on turning him into a hat." Peter smiled back, lowering his head as he remembered the threat he'd thrown against their now friend, working to keep up a brave façade as he worked out what was going on in the magical world. "Peter," Aslan's voice turned compassionate, immediately capturing his attention. "There is a deep magic more powerful than any of us that rules over all of Narnia. It defines right from wrong and governs all our destinies. Yours and mine."

Peter's shoulders rose and fell in one quick movement. He tightened his grasp along the hilt of Rhindon, looking down at the sword that'd been bestowed upon him by Father Christmas. At the pommel shaped like a lion's head, at the red hand grip bisected by a gold ring. At the silver-colored blade with _When Aslan bares his teeth, winter meets its death. When He shames His mane, we shall have Spring again, _written on both sides. The prophecy that was tied to his and his siblings.

He shook his head, his mind had switched to Edmund in that moment, wondering—and doubting—he'd ever see his little brother again. "But I couldn't even protect my own family," he murmured. What kind of big brother was he if he couldn't even keep them together for a frolic in the snow and a game of chance.

Aslan shook his head. "You brought them safely this far."

"Not all of them."

"Peter, I will do what I can to help your brother," Aslan said, voice turning firm. "But I need you to consider what I ask of you." He nodded toward his camp, at the subjects that willingly followed him with every word he spoke and every move he made. "I, too, want my family safe."

Peter hummed quietly, looking over the centaurs, minotaurs, gryphons, badgers, beavers, boars, cheetahs, dryads, and other magical creatures that aided Aslan in his work to protect Narnia and rule in his army. The next thing Peter knew, a horn was blown and upon instinct he knew it was Susan's. He turned on his heel and raced back toward the creek bed nearby, moving as quickly as he could to reach his sisters.

Peter skidded to a stop among the muddy bank, finding Susan and Lucy up a tree with Maugrim and his soldiers snarling at the girls, leaping up to nip at their heels. Peter took one glance around and relaxed a little, seeing Brielle was nowhere with them, had to have been still at the camp. Then he focused on Maugrim once more, tightening his grip on Rhindon's hilt. He turned the tip of his blade towards Maugrim, who lowered back on his hackles.

"Get back," Peter called, voice shaking ever so slightly.

Maugrim chuckled, an evil chuckle coming from deep in his chest. "Come on, boy, we've already been through this before." He paced back and forth in front of Peter while his two soldiers continued to leap off the tree, snarling toward Susan's and Lucy's dangling feet, spurned on by their shrieks of terror. Maugrim had lunged forward, making Peter cry out and wave the sword toward him. Maugrim only laughter louder. "We both you haven't got it in you."

"Peter, watch out!" Susan called from the tree. A warning shout.

Peter turned to the right, seeing the other soldiers had turned their attention from his sisters and had trained their sights on him once more. He turned around to find the three wolves were now circling him, inching tighter and tighter before making their move. All before Aslan roared, bounding across the creek bed and knocking one of the wolves aside, holding him down with his large paw.

The other wolf turned tail and ran. Maugrim, on the other hand, kept his eyes on Peter. His lips pulled back into a snarl, showing off all his gleaming white teeth. He padded the ground in front of him and leaned back. "You may think you're a king," he growled. "But you're going to _die like a dog_!" With that, he leapt toward Peter with blinding speed.

Peter's eyes had widened, he lifted his arm, pointed the sword straight up, closed his eyes. A cry escaped his lips, screams surrounded him, blared in his ears, a heavy weight crashed upon him, driving him back to the ground. Peter was crushed into the dirt, continuing to hold the phone straight up. He felt when Maugrim's life ended, left his body, the weight became even heavier, but the heavy breathing, quiet whimpering stopped.

Then Maugrim's body was rolled off him and Susan and Lucy were in his arms, hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around them, pressing his forehead into their shoulders, working to catch his breath, adrenaline filling his veins more so than any game of cricket or other sport ever could.

He opened his eyes and looked up with a start when he saw Brielle kneeling along with his sisters, staring at Maugrim's body. Her eyes widened, lips parted, jaw dropped, before she shifted her gaze to Peter, shaking her head. She leaned forward, resting her head against Susan's shoulder, who released an arm from around Lucy and dropped it over her shoulder, pulling her into the four-way hug.

"Peter!" Peter's head snapped up at the seriousness in Aslan's tone. The lion was staring straight at him, nodded when he saw he had Peter's attention. A twinkle came to his eye. "…Clean your sword."

And then he'd been named Sir Peter Wolfsbane, Knight of Narnia.

Something in those words, in the way Aslan bestowed the title upon him, made Peter realize and accept what they were about to do and what would potentially happen. And so he'd made the decision then for his brothers and sisters to go back. He should've known they wouldn't listen to his orders, they could be just as stubborn as he was. But it was that sense of brotherly love that made him feel the need to keep them as close as possible.

And the same brotherly love that made it so that he knew how important it was that Narnia was able to rekindle their relationship with Archenland, despite the tension that mounted between them. _It's our fault, _Peter thought, continuing to watch as the sky changed from a pinkish purple to a bright blue. _That all this happened. If we hadn't had left Narnia so long….Miraz wouldn't have taken over. Wouldn't have ruined everything we tried so hard to keep together._

Everyone around Peter saw a strong king, who knew what to do at every turn. And that's what he would give them. The moment the meeting started, he would stand tall and make sure they could rekindle what Narnia and Archenland lost.

He couldn't bare to lose more allies, due to the fractured alliance.

Couldn't bare to think of what would happen if they weren't able to mend things and a war broke out.

Didn't know if he could handle the thought of losing anymore innocent lives when knowing it was his fault.

* * *

King Nain and Queen Aria swept into the conference room under the call of the knights that presented them; a londe and brunette they'd met the night before. Peter and Edmund exchanged glances as they watched the royals approach the table, then looked to Caspian, who stepped forward to greet them.

"Your majesty," Caspian said, with a quick bow. Then he turned to Queen Aria and added, "Your highness. As you know, we've traveled far to hold counsel with you to see if we can mend the alliance Archenland has had with Narnia."

"Yes, I understand," King Nain replied. He eyed Peter, Edmund, and Caspian. He took in a sharp breath before responding, "The correspondence we've been sending back and forth have made it very clear what it is that's brought you to Anvard. And while we greeted you with open arms with last night's festivities, that is the way that Archaneland has always greeted their guests." King Nain's eyes narrowed, shifting over their faces once more. "Though that doesn't ignore the destruction and turmoil that the Telmarines have bestowed upon your country the past few years. Destruction and turmoil you've caused."

"With all due respect, your majesty," Edmund said, tipping his head. "That wasn't us." He motioned back and forth between himself, Peter, and Caspian. "That was Miraz."

Caspian swallowed hard. "Yes, my uncle made sure that the Telmarines were able to take whatever it was they wanted by force," he said, eyes downcast. "Once my Aunt gave birth to an heir…it was when he really put his rein of terror into practice." He lifted his chin, looking at King Nain and Queen Aria with a regal air. "But my uncle's rein is something I want to leave in the past. I fought alongside King Edmund and High King Peter to remind you of the alliance we had and how it benefits both of our kingdoms."

Queen Aria let out a light, air laugh. "And what makes you think that we'd be willing to bring back an alliance that burned us? And abandoned us in our time of need?"

Peter internally grimaced, but outwardly kept a straight face. It wouldn't help if any of them were to lose their temper when they were negotiating. "The way we understand it, Miraz only came to power when Edmund, my sisters, and I disappeared from Narnia—"

"—Yes, it's a tale as old as time," King Nain interrupted. He ran his fingers over his goatee. "For nearly three hundred years, the Telmarine Dynasty reigned unchallenged, all due to the loss of our Kings and Queens of old." He leveled his gaze to Peter and Edmund. "I am hardly able to believe it is you two who were the ones we'd aligned with before, though seeing is always believing I suppose."

"It wasn't like we _wanted _to leave," Edmund said, hoping to defend himself. Peter shot him a sharp look, making Edmund lower his gaze, though continue under his breath. "We just went back through the wardrobe after chasing the White Stag."

Peter understood Edmund's desperate need to defend himself. It was something he was desperate for the people of Narnia to understand that they _hadn't _wanted to leave. If it were possible for them to see how he and his brother and sisters were miserable in the real world, wondering what it was that was going on in Narnia while they tried to lead normal lives, they wouldn't had held so much anger and resentment upon their return.

"Our disappearance from Narnia was something we couldn't control," Peter said earnestly. "And we're working to make up for it now. Just as we did with our work to end Miraz's rule. We risked our lives within that battle for Narnia as we always will. Narnia is our home no matter how long we've been gone. It was a part of us in our lives then and will always be part of us. Including those in Archenland, whether you're our current allies or not."

"It wasn't his battle to fight, but King Peter faced my uncle, faced Miraz in a one-on-one battle to take back control over Narnia." Caspian nodded to Peter. "If that isn't bravery in the face of danger, I don't know what is." Caspian addressed King Nain once more. "Surely you can see a man of that stature is someone you want to align yourselves with in case of coming danger."

Queen Aria's eyebrows rose. "And what danger is it that you speak of?"

"There are others out there that may see Archenland as weak now that there's no one on their side," Caspian pointed out. King Nain frowned at that. "You have the superior army, but the word of the Old Narnians has spread throughout history. It is only a matter of time until someone wants to try to take advantage of that weakness."

"I assure you that Archenland isn't weak."

Peter gently shook his head. "That's not what he's implying, your majesty," he said quickly while Caspians' cheeks reddened at his faux pas. Peter clenched his hands at his sides, quickly releasing them when Queen Aria's gaze flickered downward. "Anvard is the center of the Narnian Empire, with the seat of the government. Without Archenland as an ally for Narnia and Caspian's rule for Telmar, the other islands and territories within the Narnian Kingdom will fall apart."

"Then let me ask you, what is the ultimate goal of the alliance for both sides? And what area you willing to do to ensure that this alliance is successful?"

"With all due respect your majesty," Edmund said. Peter held his breath, a little worried

"Was that wise? Since you believe we were friends."

"Yes, I'd believe that."

"Then why risk your follows, your country, for our friendship?"

"Because, of that friendship we once had before," Peter said firmly. "Because of the friendship that, deep down, you know will be a source of restoration for Narnia, Telmar, and Archenland. We've had strength once before and shall have it again. And we'll find anything we can that will make it so that you are able to see the future of this merger and agree to repair out friendship."

King Nain nodded slowly. He rubbed his goatee once more. He paused. "I'm not agreeing to the demands, but I will think about it. Matters such as these cannot be made based on emotions and in rash decisions. We shall work closely with you to work out the benefits of this alliance and how it shall benefit most kingdoms. As we are to do this, you shall have an escort to and from Anvard as you please, as I'm sure there are still matters you'd need to oversee within Telmar."

Caspian nodded and bowed once more. "Thank you, your highness, your majesty, for your time. We'll be sure this is something you can't turn down."

With that, Peter, Edmund, and Caspian were led from the conference room by a set of guards. But not without King Nain getting the final word, "For your sakes, I hope so."

* * *

**A/N: **What did you think? Do you think Archenland are going to take Caspian and Peter up on their alliance or do you think it's been too heavily damaged by what happened with the Pevensies' disappearance from Narnia and the Telmarines who took over?

I also hope you liked the look into what's going on with Peter as well. The scene where he killed Maugrim was one of the things I was excited to get to and it's not the only time you'll see the scene and we'll be getting more POVs from Peter as well.

Don't worry, there's going to be nice moments with the characters as the story goes on.

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	9. Chapter 8: Susan's Diplomacy

**Chapter Seven: **Susan's Diplomacy

* * *

"You never told us Archenland was this beautiful, Bri," Lucy commented. She planted her hands on her hips, turning towards Susan's lady-in-waiting with an accusing stare, footsteps sounding loud across the bustling courtyard as her boots clacked over the cobblestone lined path. Her footsteps echoed off the castle walls around the. Though it couldn't take over the smile that seemed to be permanently on her face. "I love Narnia, but Anvard is great. Everyone here is so nice."

"They're nice because they're not sure if they want to join our alliance," Susan replied diplomatically. "They can't get past what happened when we left Narnia. And I can't say I don't disagree with it, we left them in the lurch, and they had to move on without us." She lifted her chin, noticing Brielle and Lucy staring at her as they continued to stroll along Anvard's courtyard. "I'm just saying."

"No, you're just breaking the mood," Brielle remarked. She reached out, looping her arm through Susan's and gently bumped the queen's hip with her own. "The boys will tell us what happened when they come back. And you know how persuasive they can be. Caspian, especially needs to learn it as King."

"Yes, I understand that," Susan agreed. The tiniest of smiles came to her face, making Brielle and Lucy exchange tiny glances. "I'm just trying to prepare myself for the worst. We have to think of what would happen if King Nain and Queen Aria don't take the alliance we're hoping to forge. If there's another battle, another war, our numbers will be lessened. We won't have the means to bring anyone to our side and the rest of Narnia country knows that."

Lucy tipped her head, gazing at her older sister. "You don't know that," She reminded her. "Things could've gone well. Archenland may have been excited to want to form the alliance with Narnia once more." She shook her head. "You need to stop worrying over every little thing, Su."

"I'm not worrying, I'm being…" Susan trailed off, working to find the right word.

"A stick in the mud?" Lucy supplied.

"A pain in the arse?" Brielle added.

Susan shot them both a sharp look as they broke down into giggles. "_Diplomatic," _Susan remarked. "I'm being diplomatic. We all need to be aware that things may not go the way they're supposed to, and we must be prepared for it. Narnia was on its own for a long time and we may still be on our own. I just want all of us to be aware that the arrangement may last longer than we'd hope."

"We do understand, Su," Lucy said. She reached out and patted Susan's arm gently. Much more familiar than the sisterly whack that she would've given before. "And we're just as worried as you are. But you also must look at the other side, that there's a really good chance that our alliance will work. Archenland has been friends with Narnia since the very beginning, you've read the history books."

"Yes…" Susan agreed.

Then trailed off once more. She couldn't quite get Lucy to understand, could she? Despite them all having lived long lives before, they'd also reverted back to being children and had been children for a year before being pulled back to Narnia once more. Lucy was the most disappointed to be back in their real world, and had talked about Narnia often, but had also been the one to adjust a bit faster than the others.

As if their time in Narnia had been some sort of a dream.

It wasn't a dream to the others. It was too hard for them to get past the ones they'd lost, even the more innocent fox that had tried to help them escape the secret police. Then they were in Narnia once more, working to stop Miraz from taking over and lost more friends along the way. Hundreds of years had passed in Narnia, the Beavers, Mt. Tumnus, the army that had helped them in the fight against Jadis…

Their memories would all be for nothing if they were unable to restore Narnia to the peace it had been before. _Maybe this is why Aslan let us stay, _Susan thought, twisting her hands in front of her, brushing against the skirts of her long dress that ruffled with each step she took. _Maybe he caught wind of the alliance that needed to be formed. Maybe he knows of something that's to come that he hadn't been aware of before._

"And there's no sense in worrying over something we shouldn't worry about yet," Lucy continued, as if Susan hadn't spoken. She turned, holding out her arms as she spun in a quick circle, hair flying as she went. "We're in a new land we've never been before and there's so much to explore. I want to meet the people and see the sights, go into town and look at all the merchant stalls."

Brielle laughed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Why don't you start by going to the stables?" She suggested. She pointed with her finger toward the gates that were at the far end of the courtyard, hardly blinking when they clicked and slowly started to open. "I'm sure there are some new friends you can make there."

Lucy stopped spinning once more and planted her hands on her hips. This time she looked indignantly at Brielle with as much attitude as she could. "I may be small again, but I'm not a child." She lifted her chin. "I'm a queen and should be treated as such."

Brielle lifted her gaze towards the sky. "I didn't mean to mistreat you, your highness," she reassured, dipping low into a curtsey. Lucy giggled and stepped forward, placing a hand on Brielle's head in a regal gesture. Brielle grinned as she stood. "I just wanted you to know that the dog kennels were nearby." She looked to both Susan and Lucy as she added, "King Lune was always fond of hunting."

Lucy's eyes widened, a gasp escaping her lips. Even Susan couldn't keep the excitement from reaching her chest, making her heart flutter. How long had it been since either of them had seen a dog? They'd been in Narnia, facing off against Miraz for days, then stayed in Narnia for restoration efforts for…a few months by that point? Memories of their past life, of her life at school was starting to fade even quicker than ever before.

The first time they were in Narnia, she thought of her mother and father constantly, wondering how they were doing as they were on the countryside and then thrown into a world they worked to figure out how to get home from (before claiming their destiny). And as they grew older and older, she thought of them, wondered if they worried over their missing children before their travel back through the wardrobe proved that time hadn't passed. Their mother was okay, their father was okay, and they were still living with Professor Kirk.

Life moved on, they kept in touch with their parents through letters, went away to school, and was brought back to Narnia. And she still continued to think about her mother and father…but not as much as she used to. Sometimes, she found herself unable to remember what they or their past life looked like. Struggled to remember what Professor Kirk's house looked like. Struggled to remember what her old house in Finchley looked like. Struggled to remember the height measurements their parents dutifully etched into specific doorframes for each child as they grew taller and taller, remembering how Edmund would always declare he was catching up to Peter in height, only for Peter to haughtily tell him he was dreaming, remembered how Lucy would squeal with delight every time the ruler brushed against her head higher and higher as the years passed.

Seeing a puppy again excited her more than she thought it would. Reminded her of how human she was and that she wasn't quite Queen Susan all the time. Lucy took one look at the excitement on Susan's face and took off running, wanting to get to the dogs first. Susan quickly moved to follow her, trying to keep her pace to quick, but not too eager steps.

A queen was always supposed to be in control of her emotions. She'd watched Queen Aria all night at the party, she was older than Susan and Lucy, had been in Queen of Archenland for years, holding that knowledge and grace in the lines of her face as well as the way she commanded the room. She reigned Archenland with her husband, a true partnership that those in their presence were grateful to follow. She never saw Aria leap up in excitement when a particularly bouncy song would play through the night, like Lucy had done, dragging Susan and Brielle to the dancefloor with all the other Archenaldn women who seemed to enjoy the song as well.

Susan was happy, in that moment. She had fun swirling around with the others and not having to think about being a queen, in Archenland she was a guest and was able to act like a guest. And yet, she couldn't help but notice how Aria managed to command the whole room, even when she simply stood to allow her husband to start off a speech or another dance. As much as she enjoyed the night, Susan did wonder if she was embarrassing herself and Narnia for being less than regal.

Susan pushed the thought out of her mind, quickly changing the subject to Brielle, who strolled along beside them, suddenly not smiling. "I keep forgetting you used to live here," she remarked.

Brielle made a funny face. "I believe you've started the conversation of me living here in Archenland the same way each time, Su," She teased. Se clasped her hands in front of her. "Yes, I used to live here. I lived here as long as I could, to learn everything I could to become a lady-in-waiting for you and Lucy. Or whomever decided to have me."

Reaching up a hand, Susan brushed her hair behind her ear. "Were you truly to become mine and Lucy's maidservant? Or were you under study for Queen Aria."

Brielle hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "For Queen Aria," She finally replied. "Truth be told, yes, she was who I was originally going to be Aria's maidservant."

Susan blinked in surprise. Hadn't expected it as an answer, as honest as Brielle could be. There weren't many things that Brielle spoke about when it came to Archenland. But Susan hadn't expected something as big as that. Part of her understood it, intuitively, it made sense. A queen always needed maidservants, and those that were the most successful had a full team of them to fulfill off the duties of a maidservant.

_Then what would she had wanted Bri for? _Susan questioned, eyebrows coming together as they continued to stroll. _If her team was already so big? The decision as made from the beginning that she would learn how to become a maidservant and then be brought back to Narnia._

"It was to strengthen the alliance," Brielle said, as if reading Susan's mind. "Between Narnia and Archenland. You were the Kings and Queens prophesized to take on Jadis, and return Narnia and the surrounding lands from winter. You had done that, and it was the alliance that would've made sure I was adequately prepared to become your maidservant through what I could be taught while at Anvard." Brielle took in a deep breath. "But something along the way made it so that I was brought back to you. I don't know the particulars, there were some political things I was unable to be privy to." Brielle frowned, eyebrows pinching together. She lowered her voice. "Between you and me, I don't think Queen Aria liked me very much."

"Why ever not?" Susan asked.

"The point of a lady-in-waiting is to be a confidant to the royal," Brielle explained. "Yes, there is importance in correspondence, wardrobe care, and keeping track of the servants. But first and foremost I am to be a friend to whomever I'm serving." She looked Susan in the eye. "However, Queen Aria kept me at a distance, as if there's something she knows about me that I don't. No matter how much I tried, she made my job difficult and I was unable to progress as I should have."

Then a brilliant smile came to Brielle's face. She grasped onto Susan's arm, excitedly leaning into her. "It wasn't all bad, I was then sent back to Narnia and able to become the lady-in-waiting to my best friend. I wouldn't have been happy here." They passed through the doors that led from the courtyard to the grassy area just outside the castle. Not far int the distance, they could see Lucy running towards the stables. "Though I never remembered so much security," she added with a wave of her hand.

The doors banged shut behind them, making Susan jump. She glanced over her shoulders to find knights following at an even pace behind them, watching the two intently. Every few seconds, their eyes would dart toward the doors of the castle that'd closed, and back to the two young woman.

"It is a practiced tradition," Susan explained. "Assassination attempts aren't unheard of when kings and queens visit differing countries and kingdoms."

"Mmm, maybe I should've thought of becoming a baker."

Susan nudged Brielle in the side and the two laughed quietly. "Can you imagine that? You a baker?"

Brielle pretended to think for a moment then shook her head. "I love to eat sweets and pastries, but I couldn't work like that. All that flour all over my dresses? No thank you."

"You fought alongside us to fight Miraz, worked through the grime and dirt to save Narnia, but you wouldn't want to get flour over everything?"

"I did that for you and for Narnia. I wouldn't do it for much else."

Susan smiled gratefully, feeling a surge of appreciation for her best friend. Even in their former life, Susan didn't have many people who were as close to her. It was always her and her family, and it was that, she supposed, that made her want to grow up a little bit more, stuck her in that motherly role longer than she'd like to have had it. She and Peter had both moved into the role of parentage as the war slowly started to break out, even before then. Their father had been part of the army as long as they could remember, gone for months at a time, their mother working hard to bring money back to the family.

She and Peter were pseudo parents as long as she could remember. And she often looked to the other girls her age, without a care in the world, hanging out after school, stopping by the local shops to buy new pieces of jewelry they paraded the next day, talking about the newest shows and films that premiered that neither Susan nor Peter could enjoy due to having to take care of their younger siblings. It became an even more engrossed part of her life when their father went to war, where she had to step up as the mother, as the mediator and stop any fights that may break out so that their mother wouldn't have to.

Then, becoming the Kings and Queens of Narnia, it was as if they were suddenly parents to large swaths of people. Having to make decisions that affected everyone beneath them. Brielle had been there since their first meeting, her wild, outgoing side, always up for a laugh and a teasing comment kept her laughing for hours on end, able to be a person rather than a queen at all times.

They entered the stables, finding Lucy running back and forth from one horse to another, speaking quietly to them and brushing their manes. The servants stood aside with smiles, watching over the young queen as she did so. Susan smiled, watching the horses gently paw at the ground and move into the touch of the young queen, as if excited to do so.

Excited by her endless spirit.

Susan stepped forward and dragged her fingers down the back of the horse closest to her. It neighed quietly, nudging her side with a gentle push of its head. Susan resisted the urge to throw her arms around the horse's neck and huge it tightly, suddenly remembering Phillip and the other magical beasts that'd been by their side through their life in Narnia. Felt a pang of sadness, wondering just how long they waited for the Kings and Queens to return.

Brielle looked down, almost glaring at a rabbit that bounced through the stables, it hopping over her feet as it went. She lifted her head, brushing her hair back from her face, almost shrinking from the horses that took interest in her. "What do you think'll happen if the alliance doesn't come to pass?" Brielle asked.

"It'd be a betrayal," Susan remarked. Brielle glanced at her. "Narnia and Archenland have been there for each other since the conception, the books of Old say so. If they turn their backs on us, it'd be the highest level of betrayal against Narnia. You know what's the sad thing about it? The fact that it never comes from an enemy," Susan remarked, rubbing her arms against the sudden chill in the air despite the sun burning brightly above. She turned, the skirts of her dresses catching the dusty floor, swirling the particles up in a cloud around her. "I can't help but worry about the treaty we're forging with Archenland.

"They were tricked by the Claormens to feel Narnia as a threat and Narnia is still reeling from that betrayal. This treaty needs to work, they need to see that Narnia isn't to blame for all that has happened."

Brielle finally returned Susan's gaze, determination filling her eyes. "If you want it to be a success, it shall be."

"It has to be," Susan declared.

She didn't know what they'd do if it didn't come to pass. Didn't want to think about it. They had to stay positive, had to believe things were going to work out. Absentmindedly, Susan continued to run her hand along the horse then turned to find a servant come up next to her, a young boy with a face streaked with dirt, handing her a carrot.

"Thank you," She said gratefully. He smiled and bowed his head, stepping back, moving his hands to clasp behind his back once more. The older woman servant who stood beside him smiled down at him and he beamed back, lifting his chin higher. "Would you like to feed him with me?" She held out her hand.

The young boy stepped forward, placing his smaller hand in hers. She wrapped his hand around the carrot and together, the two fed the horse, smiling to themselves as it crunched loudly into the vegetable. The young boys squealed as the horse's lips tickled his fingertips. He yanked his hand away, wiping the saliva off on his grubby trousers.

"Did it get you?" Susan asked him.

"It tickled," the young boy replied.

"Yes, I believe it would." Susan smiled even wider, even warmer when the older woman took his shoulder and pulled him back to her side. "Thank you for helping me."

"So, which is the best one to ride?"

Susan whirled around, watched as Caspian strolled through the doors of the stables, coming to stand directly by Susan as he did so. He reached up and ran his fingers over the horse's flank. Though their hands didn't touch, she felt the warmth from him as if he'd burned her. "I don't know," she replied, her voice suddenly soft. "I think they're all ready to go if this one's any indication." She gestured toward the horse gently pawing at the ground.

"Then I think I'll choose this one," Caspian agreed. He chuckled, seeing the bits of carrot on the dusty floor. "Looks like he just got a good lunch."

"Just a carrot. I don't think that qualifies for a good lunch." She laughed to herself. "Edmund certainly wouldn't think so."

"I don't think Edmund wants to eat anything again after the buffet we had last night," Caspian agreed, laughing as well. "Very gracious hosts we have here. Very generous to let us use all their resources as well."

"I take it the meeting went well?"

"Can't say for sure, but it appears so." Caspian suddenly stood up straight, clearing his throat. He gave a regal gesture with his ar. "Would you care to come on a ride with me? It's never very much fun to go on a ride on your own?"

Susan opened her mouth to respond then closed it once more, hearing a soft giggle behind her. She didn't have to look to know Lucy was finding entertainment in the situation. Suddenly, Susan realized how quiet the stables were, how closely the servants were watching them despite facing straight ahead. Wondered what it would mean if it were to get back to King Nain and Queen Aria.

_If what were to get back? _Susan scolded herself. Still, she shook her head and said, "I have some things I need to take care of here. But thank you for the offer." She stepped back, allowing the servant to hand Caspian the reigns to lead the horse from the stable.

Caspian nodded, briefly glancing toward his feet. Then he lifted them once more and smiled toward Susan, one side of his mouth turning up. "Then I shall return soon. But…keep an ear out for your horn, in case I need to call you again."

A flush came to Susan's cheeks as she lowered her head, quickly catching on to one of the last things that Susan had said to him, before she'd thought she was no longer to stay in Narnia. She kept her gaze toward her feet as Caspian mounted the horse and thundered out of the stable.

Silence stretched between as Susan watched him go. She tucked her hair behind her ears, tore her eyes away from him, jumped when she saw Lucy watching her closely, standing right next to her. In her arms, she snuggled a hare; its ears twitched repeatedly, as if listening intently for something. Its nose twitched, feet rapidly bounded, making Lucy shift her arms to hold him tighter.

Lucy grinned.

"Oh, shut up," Susan said.

* * *

**A/N: **And now a chapter about the girls. I always wondered how each of them would've felt about going to and from Narnia and all that's changed, and it was something I truly thought about for Susan. Susan's been responsible for her siblings and then responsible for a country, it had to have hit her hard when she left. Plus, I like the idea of what may or may not have changed between them being in Narnia and being in England. And I had to throw some Suspian in there as well.

It's really interesting to see Susan's POV of Brielle and all that's going on with their friendship and faith in each other compared to Brielle's POV. I'm really excited to dive in further with their friendship and to see your reactions to it.

And, there's something about Bri that even _she _doesn't know about herself? Oooh!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	10. Chapter 9: Uneasy Arrangements

**Chapter Nine: **Uneasy Arrangements

* * *

Peter was restless. He found himself pacing the halls of Anvard with little to no direction as he went. Once the meeting with His and Her Majesties King Nain and Queen Aria, everything dispersed well, he he couldn't stay in a positive headspace. Having been on the other side of such counsels with visiting royalty from other Narnian countries, he knew how important it was to listen to what was presented to him and take everything in a clear, levelheaded manner. But to be sure he was thinking of the best of his country all the same.

That's what King Nain and Queen Aria were doing, he reminded himself, having not received a full response from them. They were thinking of Archenland and how to move forward, not wanting to be caught off guard. Nevertheless, the High King in him, the memories of the long life he lived in Narnia wouldn't allow him to completely take it at face value.

He knew what they could do. Had experienced it, it was written in the books of old, and yet he was being treated as if…as if they were nothing. As if their words didn't mean anything anymore. Having returned to Narnia, not knowing, at the time it was because Caspian had drawn them there, Peter had said the same to Nikabrik, a dwarf who'd become sullied and cynical at the presence of Peter and his siblings due to his perceived abandonment by them.

Peter did his best to appease the dwarf, to have him realize how hard it was for them to have left. But how much harder it was for them to be back and know how much time had passed, how many of their friends had perished, and how much they had to learn all over again.

"We didn't mean to leave, you know," Peter had said quietly, watching as what they knew—but didn't all together recognize as their Narnia—drifted by them as they slowly floated down the river.

Trumpkin, who was rowing, glared at him out of an eye squinted in concentration. "Makes no difference now, does it?" He responded gruffly. Years of pent up frustration, hurt, and devastation filled his voice, raucous among the otherwise silent boat ride. A silent boatride as they learned what happened to Narnia, learned about Aslan's disappearance, about the dryads going silent, about the magic seeming to leave Narnia at the same time they had.

And Peter had puffed up his chest and said with the most conviction he could muster and sincerely believe, "Get us to the Narnians…and it will."

He truly did believe it. It was what kept him moving forward throughout their battle with Miraz. Understanding they'd lost their former friends and having to break through years of hurt from those that wondered where they'd gone, he had hope that once they understood they were _still _the rightful kings and queens of Narnia and loved their country, it would make all the difference in the world.

It'd what kept him from giving up on the treaty with Archenland. From the beginning he knew it was a long shot. Their disappearance and Miraz's reign had more than fractured their friendship the two factions had, it completely shattered it. Putting blind faith in a former ally wasn't something to be taken lightly.

Peter clenched his hands into fists, his right one brushing against the hilt of Rhindon as he did so, it stuck out of the hilt attached to his hip. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Finding himself, suddenly, thinking of his father.

He hadn't thought of his father in a long while. Even when having gone back to England with the war continuing to rage on, it wasn't something he would allow more than a passing thought. Peter didn't speak about him much, not even to his own family. Having had to move into the fatherly role for his siblings was something he took on—not willingly or unwillingly—he understood the importance of the situation but detested it.

Whenever someone would bring him up, to give him condolences, to ask if they'd heard anything about his faction, Peter would change the subject but find himself glued to the radio late at night, working to determine where the war lines had moved. After a while, Peter decided to not think of him unless he got news firsthand, losing himself in books in the meantime. He would constantly go to the library and read, read until it was so late that when he got him, his mother would be angry for worrying her, for not taking his responsibility to look after his siblings seriously.

Lucy would follow him to the library sometimes. At first he'd tried to send her back, but on the days she insisted on tagging along he'd let her. It worked at first. It worked before he was sent back from Narnia. After that, there was no outlet for anything. He was a _King _and should've been treated as such…but in England he was a boy. A boy coming of age, growing nearer to where he would be drafted, and all that pent-up anger and frustration came out in ways he'd never expect his former self to fall into.

He thought of his father and wondered what he would've done if he were in the same situation. Of course, the World War wasn't quite what they went through with their battles in Narnia. But war was war. What was he thinking, deep in the trenches with a rifle hoisted over his shoulder? Did he wonder if alliances could be made, if mending fences could end a war or would the death of thousands do it?

Peter let out a breath, bringing a hand up to rub against his forehead and through his hair. All memories of his father filtered from his mind, as all memories of his life in England did. Much like twinkling stars disappearing as the sun rose, forgotten until the night came once more.

"I get you're the king and everything, Pete, but sometimes you really need to learn how to lighten up." Peter looked to the side and found Edmund had sidled up to him chomping on an apple. Aa smile came to Peter's face as he watched his brother. No matter what was going on, Edmund somehow always seemed to find the bright side to everything. "I think that meeting went rather well, don't you?"

"I can't say for sure," Peter replied honestly. He fell in step with his brother as they came through a passage that led to the courtyard of Anvard. "They seemed receptive to our idea, but even I'm starting to question if this is the right thing for Narnia."

Edmund lifted an eyebrow. He took a moment to take another bite of apple, chewing thoughtfully before saying, "What makes you say that?" His voice a low mumble as he pushed a hunk of the mashed up apple to one side of his mouth.

Peter took in a deep breath through his nose. "Would you trust anyone who you feel has betrayed you before?"

Edmund looked at his brother, eyebrows coming together. Peter looked back at him, watching as his brother's eyes darkened at the same time his cheeks brightened with a pink hue, making his freckles stand out. Edmund swallowed hard, placing his apple core in the and of a servant who quickly walked up to him, holding out his hand, then looked back at his brother seriously, wiping off his sticky hands on the sides of his tunic.

"You trusted me, didn't you?" He replied.

Peter felt as if he were punched in the stomach, gazing back at his brother. It seemed as if it were forever ago that Edmund had been practically pushed into the arms of the White Witch. Upon reflection, Peter could see where he went wrong and how much he had to do with Edmund's decisions. And he worked hard to make amends for it. He wasn't lying when he'd told Edmund he'd never bring it up again. He hadn't even thought to mention it to Edmund. Not even after Jadis had tired to hypnotize him and Caspian into letting her out of her icy prison. Edmund had been the one to ultimately defeat her, unfazed by her manipulations.

And yet, Edmund was unable to break free of the memory of when he _was _taken in by Jadis. When she confused him, when she tricked him, and groomed him into working against Aslan and his siblings. Being the sole reason for the murder of those that worked to help the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve as the prophecy slowly came to fruition.

Edmund took a deep breath, scratching at the back of his head. "When I was around Jadis, it wasn't just her influence that made it easy for me to believe her. To believe everything she was telling me. I wasn't really thinking when I made my decisions to follow her." He looked meaningfully at Peter, who nodded for him to continue. "I thought Jadis wasn't as good as she said she was, but I wanted to be wrong. I wanted to think she was good. I wanted to get back at you, Pete, and at the girls, I wanted to hurt anyone who was trying to stop her."

Peter shook his head. "You didn't know, Ed," he said softly.

Edmund shrugged. Brushed off any means to keep him from taking responsibility as he always did. Edmund wasn't one to sit and sulk—not anymore—but he wouldn't allow anyone to make light of the decisions he made upon his first arrival to Narnia. He was hurting over everything going on in his real life, but that didn't excuse how badly he'd treated Lucy and how quickly he'd turned on his siblings.

"Neither did you lot," Edmund insisted. "And you still welcomed me back."

Welcomed him back?

Peter had been furious when he'd seen his brother again. It struck him how quickly he'd been angry. Felt it surge in his heart, burn from head to toe. Anger born of worry and an influx of strong, confliction emotions when he saw that his little brother was, in fact, safe and unharmed. But then he saw the way Edmund had turned to look at him and his siblings as Aslan spoke to him. Saw the split lip, the bruised cheek, the slightly swollen eye that couldn't mask the humiliation and shame that even from the distance between them Peter saw crystal clear. And all his anger and worry melted away into relief, sheer relief his brother was alive and back on their side.

Safe and sound.

He wouldn't be able to feel that way again until they were able to mend things with Archenland. It was different, but similar. Edmund was his brother his flesh and blood, and Archenland had been their allies for years. Two forces that continuously backed each other up when the leaders of each country came together to speak negotiations to keep all of Narnia in peace among brimming tensions.

That was during the Golden Age.

There were thousands of years that Peter and his siblings had been gone that he still wasn't completely sure had happened to sour the lines drawn between them, but would stop at nothing to bring it back. Just as he did with Narnia.

Once a friend of Narnia, always a friend of Narnia.

"This doesn't rest solely on you, you know?" Edmund continued when Peter didn't speak. He folded his arms over his tunic as they continued. "I mean, if you do something stupid, yes, we'll all blame you. But Narnia isn't just _your _country, Pete. It's all of ours. Caspian, too." Edmund lifted an eyebrow. "Unless that's what's really bothering you, yeah?"

"What?" Peter played dumb, lifting his chin with an almost regal air. In a way he knew bugged Edmund as much as his continuing to treat him as a little brother, reminding him that all decisions had to ultimately be finalized by Peter. Or, rather, as Edmund just pointed out, Caspian.

Who was the king of Narnia since Miraz's fall.

"I was just curious," Edmund continued, widening his eyes innocently. "If the only reason you threw yourself into all this so much, into wanting to make an alliance with Archenland once more, was to prove something. To prove that you're still the best king."

"Th-that's ridiculous," Peter sputtered. "Caspian and I are friends. We get along."

"Yeah, you get along like Aslan and water," Edmund replied.

Peter laughed and shoed Edmund on the arm, nearly knocking him over with the force of his shove. "Don't speak his name in being or else you may find yourself struck down before you can even blink."

Edmund's eyes shone with mischief. "Is that a threat?"

Peter unsheathed Rhindon and held him toward Edmund's face. The tip of the blade glinted in the light, making Edmund bring up a face to shield his eyes, nose and freckles scrunching s he did so. "You tell me," Peter replied.

Edmund slowly brought his hand from his face. The corner of his mouth turned up and he unsheathed the sword that was by his side. Edmund swung his word up, but Peter was ready for his move. He ducked out of the way and with a spinning move, blocked Edmund's attempt to shield himself. Peter parried, knocking Edmund's sword away from his face.

Grinning, the two ran through the courtyard, easily bobbing and weaving through the crowds of servants, ladies-in-waiting, and other bystanders as the attacked and defended, swinging their swords and making lightning quick movements to get out of the way. Peter grinned at Edmund, who grinned back, working hard to one up the other. Edmund darted forward and leapt up onto the rim of the fountain that sat in the middle of the courtyard.

The young children that played nearby screeched in excitement, clapping as they watched the spectacle before them. Peter followed behind him, continuing to swing Rhindon toward Edmund. A wicked grin came across his face, an image of Edmund splashing into the fountain came to mind. He looked the lunged forward, just missing sending Edmund into the spray of the water. Edmund danced aside, extending his legs in long strides as he did so, then leapt down from the side of the fountain, batting Peter across the shoulder.

"Ha!" Edmund cried.

Peter lashed back, striking Edmund against the ribs with the blunt end of his blade. "Ha _ha!"_

And they were back, locked in battle once more.

Finally, Peter slid his arm forward, catching Edmund off-guard. He paused, just before his neck would've been pierced by the tip of Peter's sword. Peter chuckled and allowed himself to stand up straight, relaxing as Edmund's shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "It appears that I'm still the better fighter," Peter crowed.

Edmund shook his head. "I'm only getting started. We'll see what happens when you're not so distracted." A smirk of the largest kind came to Edmund's face, a taunt to the confused expression that crossed Peter's, making his hand holding Rhindon drop heavily.

"I am _not _distracted," Peter said hotly.

Edmund merely chuckled, his eyes shifting aside. "Alright." He lifted his free hand. "Lady Brielle, what brings you out here?" A quick shift into the less-familiar name to address their friend while in the presence of others. Peter whirled around, adjusting himself to stand up straight. "We'd assumed you, Susan, and Lucy would've been off with the horses."

"Ah, well, it's Caspian who has gone off on a horse ride of his own," Brielle explained. She tipped her head, angling it toward Silas. "But Sir Silas has offered an order of protection to take us into Anvard."

"I'm sure you'd like to see the city rather than being cooped up within the castle," Silas said. He bowed before straightening himself, clasping his hands behind his back. "It is under the guard of myself and my own men, that I assure your safety into the city."

Peter lifted an eyebrow as he rested his hands on Rhindon's hilt, the tip resting against the ground. sucked in a breath, drumming his fingertips. Peter looked Silas in the eye and said, "Do you believe we need the escort into the city?" He asked. "Don't you feel that, as we're trying to prove the sanctity of the alliance with our kingdoms, that it'd send the right message if we arrived with a spectacle."

Silas blinked twice. "Its under His Majesty's suggestion," he said. "As our guests, we don't want to put you in the way of any potential harm. We take the safety of our guests as seriously as we do for the entertainment and hospitality we show when our guests arrive." He motioned with his arm where the carriages were being set up. Susan and Lucy stood aside, both with expressions of excitement etched on their faces. "And, as I'm sure, Lady Brielle has bene itching to see it as well."

Brielle bowed her head, smiling a little. "There have been some things I've needed to pick up at the market place," she explained. "Some things that I cannot fathom being able to find while in Narnia." Silas nodded in agreement. "And, of course, there are a lot of things I'd love to show you of the city as well."

"It is with King Nain's and Queen Aria's insistence," Silas continued. "They truly want you to get the sense of Anvard while you're here. I understand that there are political undertones to your presence, but that doesn't mean you cannot enjoy your time here." He cleared his throat. "However, word has spread that you are here in Anvard and I can't say for certain that there aren't those that may want to take advantage of it."

"We have an army presence in Telmar during our absence," Edmund said firmly. "For that very reason."

"That's very comforting, however, it wasn't what I intended to imply." Silas cleared his throat and briefly glanced at the sky, working to collect his thoughts. "The overall response of our citizens has been positive toward the idea of wanting an alliance with Narnia once more. However, there are still those hurt by your absence."

Peter grunted quietly. How many times was that going to be throwing back into their faces? They were trying hard to show everyone they were back for a reason, that they were working hard to repair everything they'd, inadvertently, destroyed. It was going to be a tough battle, even tougher than against Jadis and Miraz.

"It is important to let Anvard see you as the rightful kings and queens of Narnia." The side of Silas' mouth tipped up. "But that doesn't mean everyone feels that way. There are many who are excited for your presence as…" he took in a deep breath, chest swelling. "Due to your status, King Nain wants to ensure your safety as much as we would ensure his."

"Well, I can understand Caspian not being treated so well," Edmund said. He shrugged. "He's a Telmarine."

"Yes, and a Telmarine ruling Narnia?" Silas paused for a moment, waiting for the meaning of his words to sink in. Finally, he added, "It's my understanding that Capian has offered to spend the day on his own. So there shan't be much drama in the matter of going to spend a day by yourselves, right?" He stood back and motioned to Brielle. "Lady Brielle and I will assure the servants have the carriages ready."

With that, he turned on his heel and started across the cobblestone lined path towards the carriages. He looked over his shoulder before speaking quietly to Brielle. "You need to get everything on the list, right down to the letter," he said.

Brielle's eyes darkened with disdain. "Don't speak to me like I'm a child, I know what I'm doing. My powers may be weaker than yours, but I can still deal some damage when I'm needed to."

"I don't want your feelings for this lot to get in the way of what we're trying to do. I know you have a…special relationship with Susan but you must remember what they've done to you. To _us_." Silas came to a stop and nodded toward her. "Lace the food," Silas said slowly. "All of it. Makes it harder to be traced."

"And if it doesn't work?" Brielle asked. She leveled her gaze toward Silas, when he turned an accusing glare her way. "Lucy has that cordial. She could heal them all in seconds. I've seen it with my own eyes."

His eyes shone with as much power as his ruby. He watched her for a long moment, his lips splitting into a wide smile. He brought out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, almost in a jovial manner, but tightened his grasp along her shoulder.

"It will work. We just need to send them a message."

* * *

**A/N: **Ah! It's starting, it's starting! A good chunk of this portion of this story will be set in Archenland, but there are going to be parts in Telmar as well as Narnia. As you can imagine, per the politics of this story, Archenland is to have a big part of the story. Speaking of, thank you so much for your response on the political plot point, it's a plot I'm nervous about as it's not one I do very much (and honestly try to avoid) but I hope it all works out in this. You guys have been very encouraging and it's been helping a lot.

Got some Pete and Ed brotherly love in this one. I promise you that chapters will get longer as the story goes on. And it won't be one 'scene' throughout the chapters as the story goes on. Thanks for sticking around!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	11. Chapter 10: Moonlit Magic

**Chapter Ten: **Moonlit Magic

* * *

Peter sighed, folding his arms. He tilted his head back to look at the sky. He heard a humming sigh directly to his right and looked over to see Edmund spinning a pocket watch around and around in circles, holding it by the chain. Over and over he spun it, catching it in his hand whenever the chain became too short. It was one of the few things that had been found in the destruction that was Cair Paravel.

The restoration was slowly coming to fruition, word coming back as the days passed. The walls were tested in the foundation for their ability to hold the new concrete to be poured and set, the throne room was blocked off from any scavengers, guarded by those that stayed behind in Narnia. Any time there was anything of important recovered, a messenger was sent to let the Kings and Queens know, the items handed to their possession so that there weren't to be any attempts on the eventual black market selling of their items.

One of the most prized possessions that had been returned to Edmund was the pocket watch. The watch that had Aslan's head planted on the front, encrusted with rubies and diamonds at the four points of the face of the watch. Edmund held onto it as much as he held onto the chess set that had been recovered when they first arrived in Narnia once more.

Peter reached out and pressed his fingers against the hilt of Rhindon. He hadn't needed to bring the sword with him, he knew of Silas' words of King Nain's and Queen Aria's decree for them to be treated as guests throughout their time in Archenland. However, he was not so naïve to think that there wouldn't be those within the city walls that would want to wish harm upon him and his siblings. There was a part of him that'd always be wary, especially in the matter that he wasn't quite sure he trusted Silas.

Silas was one who worked alongside the King…the King they were working hard to turn to the democracy they'd been before, who would see the positives of renewing the alliance with the Kingdom of Narnia. If they couldn't retrieve that alliance…well, it wouldn't make much of a difference if he wasn't able to relax a little bit.

Even the looks of the peasants, the merchants, and the shopkeepers around the marketplace worried him. Some looked at him suspiciously, while others looked at him curiously. Curious to know who he was, what he looked like, some surprised that they were in the presence of the Kings and Queens of old. He didn't blame them. The niggling thought in the back of his mind of what the other side were truly feeling, truly seeing when they saw him.

To hear that the Kings and Queens had returned but had returned as the children they were before. Older, nonetheless, but still children. Had to learn certain things over again; there were things Peter had known in Narnia that he'd forgotten in his time back in England. Very much like Lucy learning how to swim in Narnia but sinking like a stone when back in England, then re-learning how to swim since returning to Narnia.

Something that had to be seen to believed.

Peter smiled at the young shopkeeper that arranged the array of jewels and jewelry on the table before him and Edmund as they waited for the girls to finish at the stalls filled with plants; herbs, and spices, and flowers, all leaning over and sniffing delicately at what was placed before them. But the shopkeeper Peter smiled at, a young woman, smiled back, doing her best to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks.

She cleared her throat, keeping her gaze on the jewels before them. "Are you interested in any of the spread today, your Majesties?" she asked. "I assure you they have come from honest means."

"Then why are you to part with them?" Peter picked up a pearl necklace and held it up in the sunlight, eyes roving over the baby pink hue of each pearl stitched together. "These are such beautiful jewels, it's something that would be best kept within the family."

"Yes, your highness, but…" she chewed her lower lip. "Times have been hard for us lately, the farm hasn't been able to pay much of the fines and…" she shrugged, reaching out to trace her fingertips over the earrings that sat at the front of the table. "I will do anything to ensure that we can keep ourselves afloat."

"Ah." She was working to protect her family. Peter understood that, understood it well. When going to face Jadis herself, Peter had been prepared to face her and her army alone. Had urged Edmund to take Susan and Lucy back through the wardrobe and act like nothing had happened. Wanted them to leave him behind so he could face whatever was lying in front of him to take on Jadis. He wanted that, to ensure they would be safe.

But it came to pass, he found he was safer with them around. With them by his side, fighting to take down as much of her army as possible. He worried, but he was stronger. _So, what does that make you now? _Peter questioned himself, still looking over the jewels. _When you lead others into death, what would you have done if it was Edmund or Susan who had passed and not the Minotaur's and the other talking animals? What would you have done if you had their blood on your hands?_

Peter pushed the thoughts away, gently shaking his head before taking a large sum of money from his pockets; Lions and Trees, the currency he'd seen exchange hands throughout Anvard. It gave him relief to see they still worked with that currency as his time in Narnia had been cut short before their return. There were things that had changed, but a lot that continued to stay the same.

"Yes, well, I understand what it is to have the means of protecting your family on your shoulders," Peter said. He held the money out to her, noticing her eyes widen in surprise. "I would like to aid you in any way that I can. I will take the pearl necklace and those earrings you have been eyeing."

The shopkeeper nodded, eyes still wide. With shaking hands, she took the currency, putting it in a bag that hung off the side of the stall. Peter tightened his grasp along the pearls and watched as the shopkeeper hesitated a moment before picking up the earrings and daintily handed them out to him. Shaking his head, Peter held out free hand and pushed her hands back to her chest.

"Those are for you," he said. "I couldn't bare to see you part with it as much as I can't bear the thought of you losing everything you hold dear." He tipped his head with a smile. "I hope you find enjoyment of them."

"Oh. Oh!" The shopkeeper's cheeks flushed once more. "Thank you, your Grace. Thank you so much!" She cupped her hands tighter around the earrings, careful not to let them fall. "I hope you enjoy your time in Anvard." She grasped the skirts of her dress and did a quick curtesy.

"And what is your name?" Peter asked her.

"Vivienne Halliday of Chippingford," Vivienne replied, standing from her curtsey.

"Chippingford?" Peter's eyebrows rose. "You've come a long way." Vivienne smiled and nodded. "Well, I hope you much success with your sales today." He stepped back from the stall and moved to Edmund's side, as he stopped to look at the time once more.

Edmund reported the time to Peter with a shake of his head. "Half past, we've been standing at this flower stall for a half past," he said. "There has to be something more to it than just wanting to stop and smell the bloody things." He looked up, noticing the necklace in Peter's hand. A large grin spread across his face. "Well, I know you were interested in going to the shops today, but I didn't think you would be going to get me a gift." He brought a hand up to his chest. "Pete, I'm touched."

"Oh, sod off," Peter replied, shoving Edmund hard on the shoulder. "It's not for you."

"Who's it for then?"

"No one, at the moment. I only bought it so that Vivienne over there would be able to hold onto her farm for that much longer." Peter nodded towards the shopkeeper. Edmund leaned over to look, then looked back at his brother with a smirk. Peter ignored it and continued. "She's from Chippingford and comes to Anvard to sell their familial items to make ends meet." He looked to Edmund seriously. "There are more than enough reasons as to why this treaty with Archenland should come to pass, and this is one of the. Our people are losing their homes."

"Oh." Edmund's smirk fell, ascertaining the seriousness of Peter's words. "Is there anything we can do before then? Everything is now in King Nain's hands. He is the one who will determine whether or not Narnia shall thrive as it was before." He paused. "We have the alliance with Telmar, now that Caspian is King, but that may be our downfall as well."

"Which is why we must continue to work with Caspian to extend our peaceful reach between kingdoms." Peter shook his head. "But that's not what we are to talk about today. We came to Anvard to enjoy ourselves and meet the people."

"And we're going to do that even if it kills us?"

Peter couldn't help but grin at Edmund's jovial tone. Couldn't help but also be pensively envious of the ease of which Edmund was able to go from topic to topic with almost no care in the world. Becoming serious when the time came, rather than Peter having to take the time to think things through before acting.

"It is important," Peter agreed, adopting Edmund's tone. "It is a burden we must bear." He walked up to the girls as they continued to sniff over the flowers on the stall. "Is there any reason that we are still at this stall when there's plenty of other places we could be looking?"

"Boys," Lucy murmured. "They don't know anything of importance even when its right in front of them."

"And sniffing flowers is important because…?" Edmund prompted.

Brielle stood up straight, brushing her hair behind her ears. She folded her arms, making the most petulant of pouts. "I have a list I need to fill out, has to be fulfilled to the very last letter. And there are some herbs and flowers I have yet to procure." She reached into her satchel, pulling out a piece of parchment, and waved it around. "The ones I'm missing have a particular scent of mint to them. It is imperative I find them."

"And why is that, may I ask?" Edmund asked.

"With all do respect, your majesty, it isn't always your means to know what is going on in my business," Brielle replied. She looked him in the eye and reached out her hand, placing it on his shoulder. "Now, if you _must _know, there are certain things that a girls' time can make very unpleasant and—" She laughed when Edmund made a sound of disgust and pulled away from Brielle's grasp.

Peter locked eyes with Brielle and masked his laughter with a cough, watching as Edmund continued to squirm around, rubbing the palms of his hands on the leggings of his tunic. "You really didn't have to scar him like that," he remarked.

"Well, I was partially telling the truth," Brielle replied with an amused air. "Mint has always been a remedy for the discomfort of a girl's time, which is partially what I need it for. But I've also been tasked to procure these items for the cooks and servants for future dinners that King Nain and Queen Aria want to bequeath upon us. However, I have to follow the amount that's given to me to the letter."

"How come?" Lucy asked.

"Too much mint can be poisonous," Brielle said flippantly.

Edmund's eyes widened and he eyed Brielle carefully. "Remind me to have my food checked whenever it's been prepared under your vision," he said slowly.

"Oh, you wouldn't have to worry about that." Brielle leaned over, placing her nose over the plants and herbs once more. "I only handle Susan's food."

"Gee, thanks." Susan rolled her eyes, allowing the laughter of her family and friends to wash over her. She brushed her hair behind her ears and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Have you found everything you needed?"

"I have…" Brielle stood up straight and picked up handful of what looked to Peter like twigs, and put them in the basket that dangled off her wrist before handing over some Trees to ay for it. She folded the parchment and tucked it back into her satchel. "When your majesties are ready, we can head back to the castle."

"What about Silas?" Susan lifted her chin and looked around the crowded marketplace.

"He's around," Brielle replied with a roll of her eyes. "Believe me, he doesn't go too far from those he's to be looking after." She turned on her heels, the skirts of her dress catching the blades of the grass on the ground. Brielle roughly grabbed her skirts and yanked them upwards to free herself. "He takes the position very seriously."

"And how do you know him?" Lucy asked, she and her siblings moving to keep with Brielle's pace.

Brielle lowered her chin. "He, Vincent, and I got to know each other while I was in Archenland, getting training to become a lady-in-waiting. The others had slowly dwindled away, unable to keep pace with what had been tasked for us to become rightful in our positions. I'm the only one who left Archenland."

"And, are you close friends?" Peter found himself asking.

"Do you remember your friends from home?" Brielle looked to him. The question startled Peter, making him stare back at her for a long moment before shaking his head, suddenly realizing that he didn't, in fact, remember many of the friends he'd had from before the war started. Once the air raids became constant, it was hard for those to continue going to school. They stopped seeing their friends and only corresponded between letters if not running into each other when risking the danger to grab supplies. "I haven't thought of them in so long that I can't remember what they were like. As wonderful as Narnia can be, being part of nobility, being so close to it, friends, people who understand you, are difficult to come by. So, yes, in a way, they are close friends of mine." The corner of her mouth turned up as she asked, "Why are you so interested?"

"I'm not," Peter replied.

"You've been asking after them since I mentioned their existence."

"Well, you've been mum about much of your life here in Archenland, and as someone _we _trust very deeply, who has become like part of our family, it is important that we know the company you keep."

"Yes, of course."

Peter's lips pursed, noticing the tone to her voice—the mocking tone—that she didn't quite try too hard to conceal. "Must you always make fun of me like this?" He asked.

"Only because you make it so easy, your majesty," Brielle replied. She reached out and looped her arm through Peter's, tucking her arm tightly against her side. Holding it firmly. Their hands brushed. Brielle flashed him a wide smile, eyes shining with mirth. "And, as I am Susan's lady in waiting, and look after Lucy when the time comes,"—she flashed Lucy a fond smile, which Lucy returned—"well, there has to be something that'd keep me close to you and Edmund as well. Ed loves to read as much as I do and, well, you Peter, you just make it easy to tease. I keep you entertained."

"And how does that help you?"

"I get to laugh at you."

"Ha ha."

"Look!" Lucy pointed off to the side before dashing away from her brothers and sister. Susan glanced at Peter and Edmund, gently rolling her eyes, before following the youngest Pevensie sibling. She rushed over to an inconspicuous looking tent that sat between a few shop stalls. A tent Peter was surprised to note he hadn't noticed before.

It was dark, a mixture of a purple that turned into an inky black, the colors seeping into each other with ease. The flaps of the tent blew on the breeze, beckoning them closer. As they rounded the side, Brielle dropped her arm from Peter's gasp and moved closer, to regard the sign that hung along the front.

"A fortune teller!" Brielle gasped. Peter made a noise and she turned to look at him, widening her eyes. "You don't believe in them?" He tone was neither surprised nor accusatory. It was more of a statement. A cautious question.

"I have yet to come across a fortune teller who can actually tell me something I don't know or isn't something of a guess," Peter said stiffly. He crossed his arms and grinned. "What are they going to tell me? I'll go on a long and dangerous trip?" He waved a hand. "That's just a day in Narnia."

Brielle rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be a spoilsport."

"It sounds fun!" Lucy declared. "Let's go!"

"I don't know, I'm with Pete on this one," Edmund said. He folded his arms, shaking his head. "A fortune teller I could probably tell all of you your fortunes and come correct. And I wouldn't change you for it either."

"It is just a bit of fun," Susan agreed with a gentle smile. "There's no harm in it. There may be things told to us, _revealed _to us, that we've never known of before."

That seemed to take Edmund's attention immediately. "And, what if this fortune teller tells us we're going to be rich?" He looked to Peter with excited eyes.

Brielle gave him a pointed look. "You lot already _are _rich," She pointed out, gesturing with her hand. She smiled and laughed when Edmund shrugged and amended himself by saying, "Well, rich-_er_." She laughed even harder when Lucy leaned over to Susan and stage whispered, "Maybe they'll tell Peter who he'll fall in love with and he'll chill out a bit."

"I don't think that's possible," Susan whispered back.

"Let's go, then," Peter said sourly, glaring at his sisters. He led the way into the tent. If it would get them to stop whispering as if he weren't there… "Get it over with." With a flourish, he flung back the cover to the tent and stepped inside. "Hello?"

"Yes, yes, come in, sit down. You wish to enter?"

"Yes!" Lucy said with a bright smile. She hurried forward, stopping once she ran out of space to continue forward. "We're so excited to meet you!"

"Please sit down." The Pevensies and Brielle did as they were told, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the tent. Once they did, they noticed the woman sitting across the table from them, face reflecting in the crystal ball before her. "Before we start, I must ask if you truly want to continue forward. Once you have heard your fortune, you will do with that information as you wish. Your fortune may be positive and bring happiness, or it may be negative and bring despair. I can't promise you'll enjoy everything you hear."

"We want to hear," Lucy said eagerly.

"Yes, it sounds like it'll be fun," Susan agreed. Despite how calmly she was holding herself; shoulders back, hands in lap, waiting patiently for the fortune teller to continue, there was no hiding the excitement and eagerness that flashed through her eyes. She was just as excited as Lucy, Peter realized, however was more equipped in her advanced age to hold it back.

The fortune teller smiled and nodded, her long, impossibly curly brown hair bouncing around her face as she did so. Her light eyes held each of the Pevensies and Brielle in place, as if she already had placed a spell upon them the second, they entered the tent. Brielle lifted an eyebrow but didn't outwardly show any change in her face. She knew power when around it.

Despite Peter's worries, this fortune teller was the real deal. Brielle wondered if the fortune teller was thinking the same about her.

"My name is Madame Dulcea, but you may simply call me Dulcea," The fortune teller said in dulcet tones. "I've heard a lot about you," she said, addressing the Pevensies. "Of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve who would save Narnia from the White Witch's reign over Narnia."

"Who _hasn't _heard of that prophecy?" Edmund interrupted, only to be shushed by everyone. Even Peter shushes him, not wanting to hear what Dulcea had to say, but in not wanting to be rude. _Or, any ruder one can be to not believe what she will be spewing, _Peter thought. Edmund hunched over, shoulders moving to his ears from the onslaught of the hash sounds around him.

"Yes." Dulcea lifted her chin. "But how many knew of your disappearance before it was to happen? Where you were chasing the White Stag to make your wish. I tried to warn others, but that is the case of the fortune teller, of my abilities. Those only deem me as someone to wave off before it is too late."

"It was Edmund's idea," Lucy said, shooting her brother an accusatory glance.

"You wanted that wish, too," Susan reminded her.

"Well…yeah, but…"

"I knew of that to happen long before it had," Dulcea interrupted. "But no one believed me. No one believed I could see the future. I've seen the rise and fall of Miraz, and of Caspian coming into power once the Telmarines were defeated." Dulcea's eyebrow rose. "But there's more than that to prove my abilities. There's going to be a war coming from a direction you will not be able to prepare for. Other than my words, there will be no preliminary movements that will come to your attention until it is too late."

Edmund's face screwed up. "Like we didn't know that was a possibility." Again, he was shushed.

"A war that can only be stopped once all differences are set aside. Once the greatest thing of value has been sacrificed to stop the warring sides. If not, there will be much loss, darkness spreading all over the lands."

"Oh please," Peter murmured, unable to stop himself from.

Dulcea's eyes flickered toward him. "You're not a believer?"

"There's a lot that can be explained with fortunes likes these," Peter said evenly. "A war in Narnia? Can't say it's that hard to come by."

"Peter!" Susan hissed.

Dulcea's lips pulled back into a small smile. "There are always believers and non-believers, my dear." She reached out and patted Susan's hand reassuringly. "But I will always give out my fortunes when I can. Even if those don't want to hear it. It's up to you, whether or not you want to heed my words of warning."

"You're the logical one," Peter reminded Susan. "And you believe all of this?"

"Logic can't explain everything, Peter," Dulcea said. For a moment, Peter's eyes widened in surprise to know she knew his name. Then he remembered it had been a few times throughout the conversation, his name had been said. Lucy giggled quietly as Peter rolled his eyes. "Would you like to leave while the others get their fortunes read?"

"No, I think I'll sit this one through."

"As you wish. Now, who may I start with?"

Lucy immediately shot her hands into the air.

Dulcea nodded and took in a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Pressed her palms together. She continued to breathe for a few, long minutes, then brought her hands up to wave over the crystal ball. Within seconds, the crystal ball clouded over, a filled with smoke that twisted and turned along with the movements of Dulcea's hands. She muttered something under her breath, a low chant that filled the air and equally filled the heads of the Pevensies and Brielle, growing louder as the seconds passed. The color of the smoke started to change, going from a wispy gray to inky black, to the darkest of blues, to a purple, to red, to an orange, to yellow, to green, then back to the gray that faded to white.

"Dearest Lucy," Dulcea said, making the youngest Pevensie to sit up straight, eyes shining with excitement. "As the youngest, you are more than what you appear to be. Others want to be way of coming across you." Lucy's smile widened. Duclea's eyebrows twitched. "I see moments of great decision falling upon your shoulders. Decisions that'll be felt for years to come, that will only end once your wise nature is realized. You're strong and that strength shall be felt for centuries."

Dulcea's gaze shifted to Edmund, at the same time the smoke turned from the reddest of reds when speaking to Lucy, to the brightest of greens when speaking to Edmund. "You will face your greatest fear, the commitment put to the life you lead. But you will face that fear with little trepidation and with much understanding. It will be prosperous to your kingdom as well as to yourself. Your life will be full of riches."

The smoke turned blue, with Susan being next. Dulcea's eyes lit up as she smiled. "You will find ways for yourself to open to your true potential. Not just as a queen, not as a ruling matriarch, but to open yourself up to your _own _true potential…to yourself. You will find your greatest wish fulfilled in ways you couldn't even imagine…that you'd never bring yourself to experience due to worrying of how others would perceive you."

The smoke then turned a bright yellow. "I know you don't trust what I have to say, Peter, but that trust of yours will continuously be tested. Not just with the upcoming war, but within yourself and your choices, your decisions and your moves to continue from the path that lay behind you. You've made some hard choices that you continue to struggle with, but there are even more troubling decisions ahead you must overcome, especially with those closest around you. It will be hard for you to truly open yourself in that manner, but once you open your heart, you'll find yourself fulfilled in many ways."

The smoke turned to the lightest of grays when she turned to Brielle. "You're very troubled, my dear. Laden down with darkness and anger, of which it will consume you. It is either of these things that will either make you stronger or make you fall susceptible to the darkness." Dulcea frowned. "I cannot fathom whether either direction is the better option for you. There is extreme hurt…a force that has followed you from far that will be hard for you to come to terms with. You will fall further into the darkness before you find your way back to the light."

Peter looked to Brielle, who frowned at her prediction, listening intently as the words were spoken. She gently lowered her head, nodding. Her hands curled in her lap, chewing her lip as the seconds passed.

Lucy was the one to break the silence. "What about Caspian?" She tilted her head, twirling her finger in a long strand of hair that would've made her appear ditzy if it weren't for the regal air around her that appeared the moment she received her fortune. "Doesn't Caspian get a fortune?"

Dulcea spread her hands, appearing helpless as she said, "I can only give the future to those that are in front of me."

"I thought you said you couldn't guarantee the fortunes you told," Peter reminded her.

"I can't guarantee the way others respond to them," Dulcea said calmly. "And there are always a few of my predictions that come with interpretations others don't' normally see, but I can assure you that my fortunes always come true sooner than later. Sometimes not until much later. It's the future, your majesty, not the very next second. It can be weeks, months, even years before my predictions come to pass." Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Though I can say in your case, your majesty, that if you're already having trouble coming to terms with what you've heard today, it will be a while before you're able to be the king you're destined to be."

"In other words," Edmund joked. "You need to get over yourself."

Lucy and Brielle giggled to themselves while Peter rolled his eyes once more. He got to his feet, reached into his pocket of his tunic for enough Lions and Trees to pay for the fortunes, and held them out to Dulcea. Dulcea waved off the gesture with a simple lift of her hand. "There's no need for the payment your majesty. Your presence today was payment enough." She lifted her hands and gestured towards the royals sitting in front of her. "I hope you all take what I've said kindly. We will see each other again."

"That was fun!" Lucy declared.

Peter waved a hand. "I wouldn't put so much thought into what she 'foretold'." He used air quotes around the words.

"It's just harmless fun, Peter," Susan reminded him. "It's not like she told us…" she looked around the market, trying to figure out something outlandish to foretell. Finally, she shrugged and said, "It's not like she told us that mum and dad would end up in Narnia."

"And you're telling me Brielle is going to find herself falling in darkness?" Peter asked, gesturing towards their friend, who was, he realized, very quiet. Which was more than strange for her. "And not come out form it?"

"Dulcea said Brielle will find her way back to the light," Lucy insisted. "It's all true, she saw into the future. _Our _futures, you know, deep down, all of what she said was true. It's going to happen!"

"It's all just lucky guesses."

"You know it's true, Peter. We've been through too much for you to wonder whether to question it. This isn't just another silly game I could've come up with." She looked around at the group. "Didn't you feel it?"

* * *

Brielle turned the page of her book, the sound echoing along the large library of Anvard. While not as grand and boisterous as the library of Cair Paravel had been, it was a place she still found refuge. The night was calm and silent, now that she, Caspian, and the Pevensies were guests of the castle, it wasn't needed for such theatrics that were shown for the first day.

Yes, there was to be a grand dinner as always, but nothing as big as the feast and festivities of the first night. Nevertheless, the servants and slaves of Anvard were all working to make things worthwhile for their royals' stay. A quiet library was better for her, rather than being pestered by those that consistently asked if there were anything she'd needed. None of the protection was needed so much, Anvard was stronger than Narnia and the Narnian rule.

Brielle rested her chin in her hand as she poured over the pages of her read, of the tales of previous histories that'd happened in Narnia, along with the fabled books she read. Fictional tales of years that had passed. Very similar to the books that she'd read back in England. Of a life she didn't remember much, didn't have the time to remember. But after hearing the fortune that day, her thoughts shifted to her father.

A pain that plagued her…_It can only be my father, _Brielle thought.

_"Bri?"_

_She jumped, nearly throwing her plates of food across the floor when seeing her father standing in the middle of the carpet. He rubbed the back of his head, blinking rapidly as he looked around the living room. Brielle frowned, watching the familiar twisted expression that came to his face, the seconds passing slowly._

_Slowly, she set the plates on the coffee table, ready to go back for it later. As it was, she didn't feel as hungry as she had seconds ago. She'd get it later, he probably hadn't noticed she'd made more than enough for him in his state anyway._

_She sucked in a deep breath, lifting her chin, braided pigtails falling behind her shoulders. Cringed a little, knowing what was to come. Hoped she'd timed things out this time, in case she couldn't stop it. Her father stepped toward her, his eyes eyeing her suspiciously as he asked, "Where've you been all night?"_

_There were a few moments of silence, in which he waited for Brielle to respond. Gathering her thoughts, she took a deep breath and said brightly, "I was at school, daddy, you know that." She waited, hoping the light in his eyes would come back. The familiar twinkle that'd mean he was about to burst out laughing, assuring her he knew she was at school and he was only kidding._

_Like he did sometimes._

_The other times, like that moment, were the ones she worried about the most. They were happening too often for her's or her mother's liking. But without the money for proper care…_

"Am I interrupting?" Once again, Brielle jumped. This time she jumped up, slamming her hand against her book. She lifted her head to see Peter walking her way, dressed more casually than he had when out in the market, eyeing her with worry. "You seem to have been deep in your thoughts."

"Just deep in my reading," Brielle replied pleasantly. She gently closed her book. "How many I assist you, your majesty?"

Peter gave her a knowing look. "You address me as Peter when we're in private, just as you would with the others. And even so, we're in private here and you address me formally. You didn't have such worries when we were at the market."

"I guess, being back in Anvard has made me more comfortable than I've thought," Brielle replied.

"Archenland was your home for a while," Peter agreed. "But Narnia has been your home as well. Are you telling me that you feel more at home here than there?"

"I'm saying I've felt more at home when you weren't pestering me," Brielle replied cheekily. "What brings you to the library anyway?"

"I had come by to find something to read," Peter replied. "There's only so many games of chess I can lose to against Edmund and Caspian still hasn't returned." Brielle lifted an eyebrow. "Caspian can take care of himself, he's sent word that he shall be back before complete nightfall." He paused. "Nevertheless, I couldn't help but notice how worried you looked."

"Worried?" Brielle repeated.

Peter gestured vaguely with his hand. "You were chewing your lip. You only do that when you're worried."

Brielle brought her fingertips to her lip. She winced, feeling the sting of her fingers reaching broken skin, finding a slight drop of blood on the pads of her fingers. She hadn't even noticed she was worrying her lip like that. She must've been doing it absentmindedly if she managed to get so far as to bleed. So far as for Peter to notice.

"I came over to see if you wanted to talk a walk with me," Peter continued.

She nodded. Understood. They used to go walking around Narnia all the time, when he was catching her up on why they'd been pulled to Narnia in the first place, when she had a tour around Cair Paravel, when he showed her to her chambers and taught her how to fight. When he found himself wanting to talk through his ideas. But that was in Narnia, they were in Archenland. Why would things be the same?

_Then again, _Brielle thought. _Why would it be any different? _She stood, smoothing down the skirts of her dress. "Yes, a walk would be lovely." She moved from around the table, abandoning her book for a servant to take to her quarters later, and walked alongside Peter through the castle.

Servants quickly greeted them as they went by, a quick call before ducking their heads and continuing with their chores and duties. This time, it was Brielle who showed Peter around the castle, explaining all the rooms, tapestries, and the history of the castle and those that had ruled before, only faltering in the time they'd been gone from Narnia. Finally, they came upon a balcony led from an empty chamber, that looked out over the courtyard of Anvard bathed in the light of the full moon overhead.

"Does it make you miss Cair Paravel?" Brielle asked, watching as Peter looked out over the courtyard below.

Peter nodded. "Everything makes me miss Cair Paravel," he admitted. "Even with Caspian making it so that we have a place to stay, treats us to feel that we're welcome there and family, Cair Paravel has been and will always be my home." He shook his head. "This just reminds me that the restoration efforts, while noble…I'd wished they were moving a big faster." He let out a long breath, briefly closed his eyes, then looked to Brielle. "I couldn't help but notice that the fortune you heard has put you in a bad mood," Peter remarked.

"Oh really?" She moved to his side. "How could you tell?"

"You're not as insufferable as you tend to be."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Brielle reached out and smacked him on the arm. A forbidden move had they been in public, would've shown too much to how close she was with the royals. There was still decorum she had to follow. Nevertheless, when Peter got under her skin like that… (though it wasn't that she was unable to do the same to him). She did her best not to notice how much her hand hurt amongst the slap to his bicep, while he seemed not to react to, if not for a quick look of amusement.

"You don't honestly believe in the fortune, do you?" Peter asked, after studying her for a moment.

Brielle shook her head. "It's not the fortune I was thinking about," Brielle replied slowly. "Well, in a way I was. But…" She took in a deep breath, bringing a hand up to gently stroke her broach. "It's my father." Peter turned, leaning his back against the balcony, watching her closely. "I haven't thought of him in a long time, but when I do…it's a very painful thought."

"I don't remember you ever speaking of your father."

"That's because I'd rather _not_ think about him." Brielle shook her head. "Which is a very shameful thing to say, I understand." Pain bloomed in her chest, a thickening came to her throat. Made it difficult for her to get the next words out as she blinked rapidly. "It's hard to see him as a father, _my _father, when, in fact, he's a shell of what he once was." She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. "Though, I'm sure you were worried the same would've happened to your father once the war had come to pass. If the worst didn't happen."

Peter lifted his chin, humming quietly. He nodded, turned his gaze towards the walls of Anvard. "I thanked Aslan that we didn't hear from our father as the war went on. That we didn't know if he were dead or alive, because I felt that no correspondence was always better in the long run. Yes, my mother worried, and continued to worry as the days passed. But I couldn't imagine what would've happened had we gotten that correspondence. If it were that he was dead or…" he trailed off for a moment. "That he wouldn't be the same when he returned." He lowered his gaze and stepped toward Brielle. "I'm sorry something like that happened to you."

"So am I," Brielle agreed. "If that makes me selfish…makes me a horrific human…then that is what I am." Brielle shivered. "My father may as well have died in that war, the way he came back. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Let alone on my own mum. She wasn't strong enough for it. And she's still suffering if time is moving as it is now." Brielle closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay back. "I'm a horrible daughter."

"You're not," Peter reassured her.

"I love my father but…I don't know if my father is still there."

"The harsh reality of war," Peter agreed. Pain flashed over his face. "Of all those we lost. Even if they don't perish, we continue to lose those in battle as the days pass. In many ways we couldn't expect. In ways that makes many suffer more than the loss itself."

Brielle shook her head. "What happened with Miraz wasn't your fault—"

"—I almost lost you all," Peter interrupted. "I put all of your in danger."

"We were fighting for Narnia."

"I led you into that fight."

"We all did it all willingly. To stop Miraz's rule." As is to prove her point, she looked down at her arm, where a long scar traced over the curve of her bicep. One she'd received in battle as well. "For better or worse."

"Those words are usually repeated in a wedding," Peter teased, hoping to break the serious tension, his words were flat.

Nevertheless, Brielle smiled. "It's the same thing, isn't it?" She asked. "We gave our lives, our futures, to Narnia. It's what we've all wanted, isn't it?" He nodded. "What else is it you want?"

Peter thought for a moment. For so long that Brielle wasn't sure if he heard her. Finally, he looked her in the eye and said. "A life." He continued quickly, filling the space. As if finally revealing things he'd never said before. "A future. The future I once had before. I…" he swallowed hard. "I miss the family I had."

Brielle knew he wasn't speaking about his brothers and sisters. But his own family he'd had before. The wife he'd had and loved so dearly. The one he never, ever spoke about or alluded to, despite the books giving attention to High Queen Diane.

"Queen Diane, may she rest in peace," Brielle said. "Was a lovely woman." There was a 'but' at the end of her sentence, a word she couldn't get out. A but Peter picked up.

"But she's not coming back," Peter replied. "I know that to be true. I hadn't thought of it much, until the fortune teller today."

"You believe what she said?"

"I still don't believe. Any of our choices change the future, no one can know what it is that's coming our way. Just as I had no way of knowing that I'd leave Her, or that we'd leave Narnia."

"The fortune teller—"

"-Everyone knew of the prophecy of us, but no one knew of us leaving. It wasn't in any books until after our disappearance. There was no way to know that our bout of wanting to have some fun, to have a moment to ourselves, would backfire in such a fashion." Peter shook her head. "Not even a fortune teller would know that." He stepped toward her once more, his hand brushing against Brielle's. She pulled the sleeve of her dress over her hand. "And I don't intend for a fortune teller to make me feel the future is out of my grasp."

"What is in your grasp, then?"

Peter surprised her with a kiss.

Not just the kiss, but the passion he put into it, so much so it robbed her of breath and allowed Peter to pull her close. To tighten his grasp around her waist as the first kiss subsided and another one started. To let her drink in the scent that was purely Peter Pevensie; like a combination of firewood, a grassy field, and the metals of sword and armor that made her head spin until she was dizzy, taking in as much as she could. She brought her hand up to rest on his shoulder, to hold him firmly, to ensure it was real.

It was a real as one could hope.

The kiss petered out.

Brielle stepped back, allowed her eyes to flutter open. She looked Peter in the eye, took in the almost mischievous smile that came to his lips and stepped toward him again. Brought back her arm and whisked her hand forward, sliding the dagger she had hidden up her sleeve to her palm, stabbing him in the stomach.

Peter's face changed almost instantly, the admiration—was that truly what she was seeing—turning to confusion and pain. The same eyes that slammed shut in a wince when Brielle pulled the dagger out, causing him to place his hand over the wound…the wound that didn't bleed.

"What?"

Brielle's face twisted into a very unladylike expression. Very different from how well she tried to compose herself. She looked at the wound, then back to Peter's pained expression, then to the dagger in her hand. The bloodless dagger. She turned it this way and that in her palm, almost willing the blood to appear. She looked to Peter, who slumped to the ground, using one arm to brace himself, but still fell clumsily.

"Bri…" he coughed, a rattling, liquid filled cough that didn't produce any blood that she thought would come. Instead, he fell back, becoming a cloud of dust and twigs that settled over the floor of the balcony before he could hit the ground.

_What? _Brielle studied the dust as it settled. Clenched her jaw so hard her head immediately started to ache.

"I didn't need that test," she spat over her shoulder. Turned to find Silas and Vincent standing behind her, leaning against the balcony that they'd silently crept upon. "You've questioned my allegiance and I've proven to you that I'm on your side." She gestured toward the now empty space behind her. "Why must you continue to torture me?"

"Is it torture?" Vincent tilted his head. "Is it testing you? We see it as preparation. To be sure your feelings aren't misguided when the time comes."

"My feelings for Peter are never misguided and have never _been _misguided," Brielle snarled. She stopped in front of Silas and Vincent, who eyed her carefully. "The High King is going to pay for what he's done to Maugrim."

"And for the others?" Silas asked. "For their Majesties, once they've found out what you've done?"

"They'll come to see reason once I explain to them what has happened," Brielle said, turning her gaze to her feet. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the High King has done to fracture the diplomacy between Narnia and Archenland. They're understanding of how imperative it is that things are peaceful again, if they know that the High King is to blame…" she swallowed hard, lifting her chin. "They'll understand."

"And what about the fortune that has been told of them?" Silas questioned. He spun his ring around his finger, an almost absentminded movement. "What do they think of those?"

Brielle clenched her hand into a fist. "He doesn't believe that the future can be seen. His Majesty thinks the future is his to control."

"Very naïve thinking," Silas remarked. He stopped spinning his ring and rubbed at his chin. "There is another way to remove the source of the problem. As you have shown to us today."

"Killing him outright would be too kind," Brielle said. She took in a deep breath through her nose. "I want him to feel the same pain Maugrim would've felt, _had _felt. I don't want it to be easy. I want it to be slow." She shook her head. "He can hate me for the rest of his life, for as long as that would last. But I want him to suffer."

With that, she whisked her wand out from the inside of her boot and waved it in the air. The thin layer of dust that settled on the balcony immediately kicked up and blew around like a tornado without a wind to take it, carried on by her magic alone.

"And I know how to do it."

"The dinner?" Silas questioned.

"It shall be too obvious for their food to be laced if the rest of us appear to be of the perfect health," Brielle reminded him. "You're so headstrong you couldn't see the only flaw in your plan. But I've remedied that portion of your plan." Her broach flashed as did her eyes. "I just hope you're ready to act when it comes to pass."

* * *

**A/N: **Finally, got to some more witchy things with Brielle compared to the first chapter where you saw her using her magic to write in her book. She's strong, has managed to keep her powers going, but isn't as strong as Silas and Vincent. Also, I giggled a little, mentally picturing Brielle being so annoyed that she can't quite kill Peter yet, no matter how much she's been trying so far.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter? What did you think of each of the prophecies given?

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	12. Chapter 11: Questioning The King

**Chapter Eleven: **Questioning The King

* * *

Peter closed his eyes, waiting for the bite to come. Waited for the sharp teeth to sink into his flesh and rip out his throat. He lifted his arms, clumsily brought up the tip of the sword, pointed it up ahead of him. Squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the weight landed directly on him. He felt the warm breath on his face, heard and felt the gnashing teeth inches from his eyes, from the tip of his nose. Felt the large paws scrabbling to take hold of his front, to tear into his flesh and make him immobile.

Then he heard a warring cry that morphed into a desperate plea for pain to recede and opened his eyes. He saw Maugrim laying above him, breathing hard as he tried to regain his footing. His feet scrambled along the ground, trying and failing to grab any traction. Through his heart was the tip of a sword that stretched so far it poked through his back. Peter scrambled backwards, watching as Maugrim continued to twitch and convulse upon him, his two companions slowly backing away. Eyes wide with horror.

Blood dripped from Maugrim's lips. Pooled to the ground beneath a sharp contrast to the bright green grass it stained. His eyes narrowed, a low growl started to form, then bubbled away. Pain and fear reached his eyes, which suddenly moved to just behind him. Maugrim tried, once more, to say something, then fell heavily onto his side.

Didn't move.

Stared straight into his glassy eyes, watching as the life faded away into nothingness.

Peter's eyes shot open as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. He rolled onto his back and brought his arms up to cover his flushed face. His hair was plastered to his forehead, damp against the sweat that appeared in night, cheeks mottled with red. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath, working his heart to calm from the horror of the nightmare.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes once more, taking in the bright sunlight that streamed over Archenland. Something about it was different than the way the sunlight streamed over Narnia. Or maybe he was much more homesick than he thought he'd be. Appearing on the beach at Cair Paravel, at the _ruins _of Cair Paravel, had been a sharp contrast to their elation of being back in Narnia.

When they stepped out onto the beach, he was happy. Nothing short of excited that they weren't going to another year of school but was back in Narnia, where they'd been the happiest. Where they didn't have a war to worry about, where they had a fantastic place that they could be themselves. Being back there, for the first fifteen minutes, was nothing short of elation. Where they ran back and forth against the spray of the water, it splashed up at their heels, flying through the air as they sprayed each other, squealing in absolute delight.

Even Brielle, who was one who always had to be the bet dressed, was allowing water to soak her clothes and hair. It'd been a surprise when they ran into each other at the train station, ready to start another year at different schools. They'd kept in touch with letters as their time from Narnia within that year continued to stay further and further in the past, the relationship holding strong, not lost as they quickly caught up with each other, waiting for their train to come.

But it was like everything had gone back to normal, their new sense of normal when they were transported back to Narnia. And now…as long as Narnia would keep them there…they'd be sure to make Narnia even a fragment of what it used to be.

_But what if that's it? _The thought crossed Peter's mind before he could stop it. What if they were staying in Narnia until things were brought back to normal. Until the peace between Narnia and Archenland had been restored and Cair Paravel was rebuilt. What if, in that time, they finished everything they needed to do and were cast out of Narnia once more?

What if they couldn't go back?

Peter shook his head and sat up. Rested his face in his hands, the cool touch of his hand bringing down the warmth he still felt. As long as they were still in Narnia, he didn't have to worry about it. Shouldn't have to worry about it.

Unless Dulcea's prophecies came true. Peter didn't believe it, exactly, but didn't quite…_dis_believe it. His siblings all seemed to take it in stride, even Susan, the intelligent one, the mature one, seemed to be interested in what her future held. Took what was told them in excitement and stride. But he couldn't do that, couldn't open himself in that way, as no one controlled his destiny but him…and maybe Aslan.

Aslan, who they hadn't seen since he'd helped save them from the Telmarines, who were about to win the battle and the war. He'd disappeared as quickly as he came, since having had released some Telmarines back to their home, back to their real world, where their ancestors had come from. _They _had a choice, if Peter and the others were to be cast from Narnia once more, it would be without a choice, though the first time had truly been an accident.

They lived their lives out through the Golden Age and, just so happened to stumble upon a familiar area as they chased the White Stag. Peter worked to remember what it was he wanted out of the stag had he had been able to capture it, but couldn't remember too much from that time. He remembered how much fun he had on the journey with his siblings, where they could _be _siblings and not just the Kings and Queens of old.

Where he didn't have to be the political leader of a group of people. Where he…where he didn't think about what'd happened to his wife while he was gone as she waited for him to get back. That was the hardest part for him, for returning to England, where his memories of Diane—High Queen Diane the Compassionate—slowly faded away. His memories of battle plans and mapping hadn't dissipated, he went from one war to another and back…but he couldn't quite remember the woman he loved so dearly.

Someone he'd trusted with everything. So he couldn't help but react unfavorably when Dulcea had made her prediction.

_The smoke then turned a bright yellow. "I know you don't trust what I have to say, Peter, but that trust of yours will continuously be tested. Not just with the upcoming war, but within yourself and your choices, your decisions and your moves to continue from the path that lay behind you. You've made some hard choices that you continue to struggle with, but there are even more troubling decisions ahead you must overcome, especially with those closest around you. It will be hard for you to truly open yourself in that manner, but once you open your heart, you'll find yourself fulfilled in many ways."_

How was he supposed to open his heart once more…when having done it before made it so that he continued to get hurt, continued to lose people?

Pushing his covers off him, Peter swung his legs out from his bed and walked to the windows. He drew open the curtains and winced, taking in the full brunt of the sunlight. He brought up a hand to shield his face then looked out over the courtyard below. Archenland was already up in full swing, just the way that Narnia had been once more. Nevertheless, he couldn't completely feel comfortable there, just as he couldn't with Telmar.

Peter decided to get dressed, opting to have the servants draw him a bath later. He'd just finished and was placing his leather-bound sword hoist on his waist when he heard the door to his room open. He reached out and grabbed the dagger that sat on the edge of the desk in his room and whipped around, throwing it in the direction of the door.

Brielle let out a shriek of surprise, bringing her hands up to cover her face and turned to the side, the dagger harmlessly passing by. Behind her, a trio of servants whisked into the room, converging on his bed to clear it from the rumpled mess he'd made.

Peter gaped at Brielle and the servants in surprise and light horror seeing how close he'd been to taking any of the four of them down. "What are you-?" Peter broke off his outburst, shaking his head. "You can't just barge in here like that!"

Brielle turned wide eyes to him, completely ignoring the personal space she'd just broken in to. In fact, she appeared offended at the question. "Did you just throw a dagger at me?!" Her voice carried equal amounts of outrage that Peter's voice held.

"It's your fault for interrupting me," Peter replied. He gestured lamely toward the wall where the dagger was gently bobbing up and down from the force of sticking into the wall. "I was practicing my aim."

"No kidding." Brielle looked toward the dagger. She reached up and pulled it out the wall, handing it back to him, blade turned toward him. "You missed by a mile."

"Get." Peter yanked the dagger out from her grasp, carefully twisting it so that the he twisted the hilt of the dagger into his palm. "Out."

"Look, I'm sorry." Brielle spread her hands. "I asked the servants if all rooms were cleared before we came to clean, but I guess they missed your room." She shot a scolding look towards the servants, as they continued to scuttle around, cleaning every inch of Peter's room. "The guards were under the impression you were out as well. And, besides, I wanted to give this to you." She reached into the satchel that hung off her hip and pulled out a hefty book. "I saw it in the library yesterday and thought it was something you may be interested in."

Peter's eyebrows rose as he took the book. He looked over the cover, recognizing it as a book on medical practices within Narnia. A small smile came to Peter's lips, remembering a memory form what seemed like so long ago, before a time where he and Caspian could even dream of getting along.

They'd just declared the duel against Miraz and were working to get Peter's support together. Caspian had bene against the idea from the beginning, saying, "This is not what I want, this is my fight," he had said, following Peter down a winding cavern corridor of Aslan's How.

"I think we already tried that," Peter replied sarcastically as they came to an open clearing. Candles illuminated the cavern. Peter came to a stop and turned to face the Prince. "Look, if there's going to be peace with the Telmarines, you have to be the one who brings it."

Caspian pressed his lips together, looking meaningfully at Peter. "How can if I you won't let me?"

Peter shook his head. "Not like this…not in a fight like this." He took in a deep breath, eyebrows coming together in a meaningful expression. "if I don't 'make it, Narnia's future is in your hands."

"And what about your own future?"

At the question a small, wistful smile came to Peter's lips. Wistful of a life he wasn't quite sure he'd go back to, or be able to experience. "Well, I was thinking about a career in medicine..." He trailed off, noticing Reepicheep, Trumpkin, and a bear standing around a stone table, where his dueling clothes lay. Peter sighed heavily.

"Your highness?" The bear asked.

"Yes?" Peter snapped out of his thoughts and looked to his subject.

"I'm a bear, I am," the bear said haltingly.

Peter chuckled. "And a very fine one, I'm sure."

"I beg your pardon," the bear continued. "But tradition holds that you pick your martials of the list."

Caspian nodded. He took a step forward so that he stood directly beside Peter, beside him and ready for any of the choices that the High King had to say. "He's right, you need to choose your seconds."

At that, Reepicheep took a step forward. "Sire, my life is forever at your command. But I thought, perhaps, that I might be sent for this challenge."

Peter chuckled even louder that time. He brought up a hand and it through his hair. When he managed to compose himself, he looked fondly at the small, brave mouse. It was the first time he'd thought about his home in England since arriving in Narnia, but a great memory nonetheless. "As you know, my good Reepicheep, many humans are afraid of mice." He gently shook his head. "And it really wouldn't be fair for Miraz to have anything in sight that could dilute his courage."

"Of course, your majesty, as a mirror of honor, that is exactly what I was thinking."

Peter nodded toward Caspian. "Caspian, tell Glenstorm I want him, Ed, and, whomever you may feel to fit right behind me, to be my guard." Caspian nodded mutely. Peter stared at him for a moment. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Are you sure that _you _are?" Caspian had asked in response.

It seemed so long ago that Peter was going to face, what he thought was, certain death. And now he may get the chance to have that medicine career take off. Even if it were in a different realm. He smiled, placing the book on his desk. "I thank you highly for this," he said. Then he looked at her closer. "But why are you leading the servants? You're not under Queen Aria's rule. You're Susan's lady."

"Old habits die hard," Brielle remarked. She shrugged delicately. "I felt like a bump on a log being here as a guest. I guess I feel that I needed to be a little useful while we wait to see what King Nain and Queen Aria say about the treaty with Narnia."

"And?" Peter prompted.

Brielle beamed and spread her arms, letting the long, flow sleeves of her dress hang as she spun in a quick circle. "I wanted to show off my new dress. It makes me look quite put together, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose," Peter replied after a quick pause—he was never quite sure what she thought of Archenland compared to Narnia of being a home to her. She did appear to be quite restless the longer they stayed in Anvard. "In certain lighting."

"What sort of lighting?"

"Absolute darkness." Peter laughed to himself when Brielle rolled her eyes and signaled for the servants to leave. "Thank you for this," he tapped his fingertips atop the cover of the book. "But I'm running late, I must be at Cair Paravel before nightfall."

"It's why the servants thought the room would be clear," Brielle said quietly. She crossed the room toward him. "Shouldn't you be there by now? You've got a late start, haven't you?"

"Yes, well, there's a lot that needs to be prepared before I see to the restoration efforts of our home," Peter said. "To ensure that it's brought back to its former glory, to stand as a beacon among those that want to find Narnia as a place to live peacefully."

"Better you than I," Brielle remarked. She reached out and smoothed down the collar of his shirt, using soft, deft strokes of her fingers to ensure it lied flat. "I wouldn't want to have all that weighing on my shoulders. Beauty being a lady in waiting, I don't have as much of the responsibility as the rest of you lot do. And, the plus side, you get me to help you."

"Oh yes, you've been very helpful," Peter replied sarcastically. He brushed his palms off on the sides of his tunic. "Nearly impaling you with a dagger has gotten me prepared for the trip and the meeting of those rebuilding our home. Not to mention intruding on my privacy."

Brielle's eyes flashed with mirth. "Ah, yes, but that's in private. In public, I'm the perfect lady." She made a show of doing a deep curtsie. "Take care on your tip, Peter. The rest of us will be fine here."

"I shall." Peter nodded, taking in a deep breath, taking on the feeling of having to be High King for those he was about to see. Not 'King Peter the Guest'. He held out his arm and Brielle and the servants swept their way from his bedchamber and went down the hall, knocking lightly on the door to another room before disappearing inside to clean once more.

Peter went down to the front gates of the castle where a carriage was being set up for his travels back to Narnia. He blinked in surprise, seeing King Nain standing aside it, barking orders to the knights that encircled the carriage. "You came to see me off?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I like to ensure that all our guests arrive and depart safely," King Nain said. He looked at the young king out the corner of his eye. "Certainly that's something you consider when there are those that come into your place of presence?"

"Of course," Peter agreed. "We Narnians make it a point for everyone who comes to our kingdom to find refuge and safety where they can."

"Then that brings question of your motives as a King."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lady Brielle was seen coming out of your bedchambers this morning. Whether or not you've found it in your company to keep a mistress, it isn't what would be best for Archenland though she does come from high nobility. Part of this treaty, part of the treaty we'd had with Narnia before, was due to High Queen Diane's—" Peter's frosty gaze made King Nain abruptly break off his sentence into a light cough. "May Her Majesty rest in peace, but Queen Susan is not the High Queen and while it is being determined whether it is the Pevensies or Caspian who has the true rule to Narnia, it is imperative that certain images are upkept."

Peter sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, took a step toward King Nain. "With all due respect, your majesty, who or what comes out of my bedchambers isn't anyone's business but my own," Peter said seriously. "And I hope rumors and innuendo like that isn't what has you rule your town and country."

"Quite the opposite, actually," King Nain responded coolly. "Though it does bring to question what it is a young King is more concerned with. I implore you, to think more of what it looks like for the treaty and what it could mean in the long run if you are to bring us further into your questionable choices."

Peter gave a tight-lipped smile in response. "I'll keep that in mind."

And it was a wonder he was questioned about his trust of others.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry it took me so long to back with an update, but here I am! To answer a few questions, it's pronounced "Dull-See-a" which, if you're a 90s kid, I got off of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers the Movie. It just really worked as a fortune teller name. And, as you can see here, yes, Peter was one married to a High Queen Diane. (I actually need to go back to see if I said it was Diane or Diana, lol). But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We've got action and fight scenes and more of the upcoming war that was stated in the prophecy starting soon! The next chapter has another look into Brielle's past!

Thanks for reading!

**Cheers,**

**-Riley**


	13. Chapter 12: A Look Into The Past II

**Chapter Twelve: **A Look Into The Past II

* * *

"Are you dressed?"

"I am."

Brielle turned, smoothing down the front of her skirt as she saw Susan coming her way, crouched low in the tunnels branching off the Beavers' damn. Susan smiled a gentle smile, pillowy lips barely moving to become as friendly as the light in her eye, the shine reflecting from the lantern she held in her hand.

"I'm sure all of this is confusing to you," Susan continued. She gently tilted her head, some of her hair falling over her shoulder. Falling out of the ringlets that had been curled into it. Brielle studied Susan's hair, reaching up a hand to touch her own, feeling her own ringlets, that had been carefully curated by herself and her mother, had fallen flat from having fallen through the water.

A part of her life in England left behind.

Brielle slowly dropped her hand from her hair. "We're not going home, are we?" She asked.

Susan parted her lips to respond, then closed them again. Shook her head. "I don't know," She said gently. "But, I don't know what is my home, either. My brothers, Lucy, and I…we were sent away from London. Because of the bombing. We were staying with a professor, so I don't know what would even be considered home, anymore."

Brielle's eyebrows pulled together in sympathy. "You were evacuated. I can't imagine what that was like. The bombing, the…" She shook her head. Closed her eyes. Worked to block out the low rumbling she could hear in the distance of her darkened bedroom. Tried to tell herself that it was thunder and not the sound of lives being ended in terror, in an instant. Lives being uprooted in its entirety. A future she knew was bound to happen to her sooner than later. "Dad always said it was horrible," she murmured, opening her eyes, looking Susan in the eye. "But I never knew just _how _horrible."

It was Susan's turn for her eyebrows to come together. "Your father was in the war?" Brielle nodded, but didn't push any further. Couldn't reveal the truth. Her father was a war hero in many people's eyes…but in her eyes…he was a shell of a man.

Susan lifted her shoulder in a shrug, then said, "So was mine. Or…_is _mine, I suppose. I don't quite know how much time has passed since we've been here." She reached up her hand, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "You see, in Narnia…time doesn't move the same was as it does on Earth." Her face screwed up. "Well, I _think _we're still on Earth. But in a different sort of Earth." An apologetic expression came across her face. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm making much sense."

"None of this makes sense," Brielle agreed. "One minute I'm taking a bath, the next thing I know, I'm surfacing at the beach and traveling with some bloody talking beavers!" She chuckled lightly. "But I can't say I'm not grateful for the help."

"The beavers have become good friends of ours," Susan agreed. "They've protected us from the White Witch since we arrived."

"The White Witch?" Brielle repeated.

Susan shrugged apologetically. "I told you it was a long story; she controls Narnia. It's all part of this so-called prophecy that's supposed to end." She shook her head. "We're just looking for Edmund and trying to get home. We're not trying to fight a war here."

"We're already coming from a war, now we're thrust into another one." Brielle let out a humorless chuckle. "A war that never ends."

"The war that never ends," Susan repeated. "The one here or the one back home?"

"Does it matter?" Brielle shook her head. "We're helpless to do anything about it. Our decisions are being made for us." She looked at Susan closely. "Did you want to leave your home?" Susan lowered her gaze to her feet. Lifted it, then shook her head. "Just as I didn't want my father…" Brielle scratched at her forehead. Changed the subject. Susan didn't protest. "But if what you've told me about this prophecy is true…what do I have to do with it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You and your family, you're the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, the four of you. What do I have to do with the prophecy? Why did Narnia bring me here?" Her eyebrows twitched upwards. "If it has anything to do with me being here."

"I don't know," Susan said quietly. "But we're going to find Edmund…and we're going to figure things out." She reached out and grasped Brielle's hand, squeezing it tightly in her own, then motioned her back to the front of the house. "We just need to find Aslan, first."

"Hopefully sooner than later," Peter agreed as the girls joined him and Lucy around the table. Candles flickered shadows across the walls, the fire keeping the small area warm, though Brielle still felt a chill. That was to happen, she supposed, considering there weren't many places in Narnia were one was to get some clothes. Susan had traveled back through the wardrobe to retrieve some from her. But even the large jacket Brielle draped over her shoulders couldn't keep out the chill that bore deep into her bones.

Or, maybe it was the guilt holding her. She had the chance to get back home to see her father again, her mother. To be there…but the cold had kept her from moving. Kept her from taking a step further, exhaustion holding her still…something deep in her gut pulling her to Narnia. An pull that wasn't all unpleasant, but unnoticeable.

"Go on dear, have a cup of tea," Mrs. Beaver said to Brielle, pushing the steaming cup toward her. Brielle carefully took it, moving it close to her face. She closed her eyes, taking in the warm steam that bathed over her face. Wafted over her, warmed her down to her bones. "You need to keep your strength up. When was the last time you've eaten?"

"I don't know," Brielle replied. "I can't remember." Had she eaten after leaving her friends? When she got back from school? Before her father had startled her? Nothing. Brielle nodded toward Mrs. Beaver. "Thank you."

"You really fell through the bottom of your bathtub?" Lucy asked, breaking through the silence of the conversation with the newcomer. They'd been on their own the past few days, with no companions but talking animals. Another human would've been a relief, a sense of comfort away from home. At least, that's how Brielle felt, having stumbled upon the Pevensies. Something familiar in an unfamiliar world. Lucy's eyes shone with mirth. "We just came through a wardrobe."

"At least you had the proper clothing," Brielle replied with a warm smile. Lucy smiled back. "Can you imagine how heavy this jacket might've been in the bath?" Her smile widened when Lucy giggled. "My mum would've had my head if I ruined one of her furs."

Peter pushed back from the table and stood. He went to the window, tilting his head as he glanced out of it. He rubbed his hands together, fingers twitching. "We have to keep moving," He turned from the window, pressing his lips together. "We're sitting ducks here if we don't keep going to Aslan."

Susan frowned, pursing her lips. "We don't even know where we're going, Peter." She gestured to the side. "We're going in circles."

"The beavers said we need to go to the stone table, they know where we're headed, we should go," Peter insisted. "We were well on our way when…" he trailed off, cleaning his throat.

"When you found me," Brielle finished his sentence. She looked him in the eye. He continued to look away, as he had since stumbling upon her. "Look, I didn't mean to stop you from finding your brother. But I didn't ask to be here as much as you all asked to be."

"They weren't asked, dear, it was their destiny," Mrs. Beaver said soothingly, yet firmly.

"They're going to save Narnia!" Mr. Beaver added. "At least…they will when they come to see that they're rightfully the kings and queens of our country." He shook his head toward Brielle. "Now, I don't know what they need you for, but you're here for something."

"Beaver!" Mrs. Beaver shook her head, wringing out her paws. "Please forgive him. He's been a bit irregular lately."

"It's your cooking."

"I've been cooking for you for years."

"It's gotten worse."

Brielle smiled. She wrapped her hands around the mug, using it to warm her even further. She lowered her chin, thinking. Thinking of her parents; they would e wondering where she went. Or else…her _mother _would be wondering where she was. Her father hadn't had the cognitive ability to recognize anything he was around in the last few months. Becoming worse as the days went by. Couldn't remember his house, any of the pictures that lined the walls since until he was soothingly reminded.

Until his wife would take him by the arm and show him picture after picture, gently press kisses to the side of his head as reward when there was a spark of recognition. The reward of Brielle's heart fluttering when she could go to her father and wrap her arms around him and feel him hug her back with as much enthusiasm as he would always muster. He hadn't been hugging her lately. Rather, if she were being honest, she didn't move into his open arms as much as she used to, unsure if he was going for a hug, or going to throttle 'the enemy'.

The crackling of the fire in the dam was the only thing to break the silence that settled over them after. At least, until Mr. Beaver's head shot up and he darted toward the window. The fur on his back stood on end as he whipped around toward the others inside. His eyes, black and beady, widened in horror. His voice took on a note of urgency when he barked, "Hurry, mother, they're after us!".

Mrs. Beaver immediately sprang into action, the sounds of loud panting, growling, and whining filling the dam. Brielle leapt to her feet, moving as far away from the sound as possible. The snarling, growling…she remembered the sound of a pack of dogs barking. Passed two of the more vicious ones, tied up in chains, as she passed her neighbor's house on the way to and from school each day.

Brielle pressed her back against the wall of the house, moving along with Peter, Susan, and Lucy, trying to get as far from the danger as possible. Mrs. Beaver, on the other hand, took Mr. Beaver's words and sprang into an almost frenzied action. "Oh! Right then." She started to scurry around, taking what looked to be wrapped parcels of food from different nooks and crannies in the walls.

"What is she doing?" Peter demanded, eyes growing wide. Aware of the danger coming to them. His eyes shifted back and forth from the window to Mrs. Beaver.

"Oh, you'll be thanking me later," Mrs. Beaver replied. "It's a long journey and Beaver gets pretty cranky when he's hungry."

"I'm cranky now!" Mr. Beaver shot back.

Susan stepped forward and started to help Mrs. Beaver gather everything they could get their hands on, bundling it up in a large parcel. "Do you think we'll need jam?" She asked, turning her gaze toward Peter, who cocked his head to the side and said sarcastically, "Only if the witch has toast," in response.

Brielle jumped as there was a deafening cracking sound, wolves' paws breaking through the walls of the house. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver ushered the young kids to the hiding hole Susan and Brielle had been through before. They moved as fast as they could through the cramped, claustrophobic tunnels, crouching low to keep their heads from brushing against the ceiling, dirt raining down upon them.

Kept going until Lucy tripped over a root and fell to the ground. Everyone turned back to watch her, the sound of their footsteps and heavy breathing stopped in that instant. Made it so that the sounds following them, could be heard. Lucy's eyes widened, realization hitting her. "They're in the tunnel," she whispered, her tiny voice drowned out by the excited yips of what was chasing them.

"Quick, this way!" Mr. Beaver shouted.

Peter reached back and grabbed Lucy's hand, hauling her to her feet as they took off once more. They continued to scurry through the winding tunnels, not daring to look behind them. Finally, Mr. Beaver found and opening in the tunnel and they crawled out, scrambling on hands and knees out into the snow. Brielle grasped Lucy's shoulders, pulling her back from the mouth of the tunnel, putting her arm protectively around her shoulders while Peter and Mr. Beaver moved a barrel in front of the hole they came out from.

Lucy trembled beneath Brielle's grasp, moved further backward when the yipping and growling became louder. She tripped backwards over a fallen stone, twisting to her knees to get back to her feet. Gasped audibly enough that all heads turned her way. They saw the same thing at the same time. What looked to be stone menageries of animals perfectly placed around them.

Brielle stepped forward, gently pressing her fingertip into the side of what looked to be a stone statue of a squirrel. It felt warm beneath her fingertips. Almost as if it were still alive, the stone turning from scratchy material to the softest of furs. "What happened to them?" She breathed.

"The witch got to them," Mrs. Beaver said quietly. She placed her paw on Mr. Beaver's shoulder when he reached out to touch the stone statue of a Badger. Its arms were lifted high in the air, as if to ward itself off from an attack coming his way. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"He was my best mate," Mr. Beaver murmured, lowering his hands.

"The same'll happen to you if you cross the witch," A fox said, leaping to the ground from a nearby fallen log. "Or worse. So far they've been lucky that this is all that's happening." He moved towards the group.

Mr. Beaver leapt forward, teeth gleaming as he snarled, "You take one more step traitor, and I'll chew you to splinters."

"Relax," Mr. Fox replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'm one of the good guys."

"Yeah? You look like one of the bad ones."

Mr. Fox turned his head in what would've looked like a humanesque, sarcastic cocking of his head, if it weren't for the fur that covered his face. "An unfortunate family resemblance, really," he remarked, voice turning low with sarcasm. "We can argue breeding later. Right now, we've got to move."

As if to punctuate his words, the sounds of barking become louder, closer. Brielle stepped back, moving further away from the barrel that started to quiver and shake, as if something was hurling itself against it. Peter looked toward it then back to Mr. Fox.

He swallowed hard. "What did you have in mind?"

Mr. Fox nodded toward the trees that towered around them. "Trust me," he replied.

Peter looked to Susan, swallowed once more, then hurried toward the tree. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver quickly scaled the bark of the three, climbing up as quick as a flash. Peter bent down, cupping his hands together so that Susan had a foothold to reach up into the branches above her. She grasped the branch and pulled herself up two or three before shuffling to the side, making room for Lucy.

"Go on, Lucy." Brielle grabbed her shoulder and pushed her toward Peter, helping her up. Susan reached down and grabbed Lucy's hands, hauling her up into the tree next to the beavers.

Peter turned to Brielle. "Come on!" Brielle started to go next, lifting her foot to place in his hands, then stopped. Looked down at the shoes Susan had leant her. At how scuffed they'd become since running through the tunnels to get free. They'd been taken care of nicely and then became scuffed. Brielle lowered her foot and stepped back, lifting her hands to pull her limp hair back from her face, twisting it up into a messy bun. Peter's eyes widened in disbelief. "We're running for our lives and all you care about is your hair?!" He practically screeched.

Brielle glared back at him. She stepped into his foot, digging her heel into his palm for good measure, and climbed up into the tree, sitting next to the girls. Peter, last, leapt up and grabbed the branch. He hauled himself up, huddling next to the trunk of the tree, throwing his arm around Lucy just as the barrel exploded from the opening to the tunnel.

Mr. Fox, after ensuing they'd all gotten pup into the tree, turned to face the pack of wolves that converged toward him. "Greetings gents," he drawled as they circled him. "Lost something have we?"

"Don't patronize me," Maugrim shot back. He stood stock still in front of Mr. Fox, his tail swishing back and forth as he did so. The rest of the secret police growled low, deep in their chests as they encircled him. "I know where your allegiance lies. We're looking for some humans."

"Humans?" Mr. Fox tilted his head. Disbelieving. "Here in Narnia?" Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "That's some valuable bit of information, don't you think?" He cried out in pain when one of the wolves leapt forward and sank his teeth into Mr. Fox's back, lifting him off his paws. They scrabbled over the snowy ground, trying to keep himself still, unable to overpower the wolf.

Peter reached out a hand, slapping it over Lucy's mouth.

"Your reward is your life," Maugrim snarled. "It's not much. But still. Where are the fugitives?"

"North," Mr. Fox finally admitted. "They ran north."

"Smell them out," Maugrim declared. He watched as his pack took off in a sprint, but not before tossing Mr. Fox aside to collapse into the snow. Maugrim started to chase after them, then stopped, turning back in the direction the Pevensies and Brielle hid. Brielle tightened her grasp against the tree branch, watching with wide eyes.

She stared at Maugrim, watching as his head gently shifted to the side, as if watching them from the corner of his eye, before he bounded away to chase after the rest of the secret police. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver hurried back down the tree trunk to Mr. Fox's side while Susan and the Pevensies carefully climbed down after them.

Brielle dropped to the snow and looked in the direction that the wolves' paw prints led. She frowned. Only broke out of her trance when she heard Mr. Fox say shakily, "I wish I could say their bark was worse than their bite," and turned to see Mr. Fox slowly getting to his feet with the Penvensies and the Beavers helping him to his feet. "You all, stay safe." He started to lump away.

"You're leaving?" Lucy asked.

"I wish I could stay. It has been a pleasure, my queen, and an honor." Mr. Fox bowed his head to her, Peter, and Susan.

Brielle watched, still frowning. Her heart rate started to increase. _They weren't lying, _she thought. _About the prophecy? _Her gaze lowered to her feet. _Then what does that mean for me? _She ran a hand over her hair, chewing her lower lip, looked back in the direction of Maugrim. Feeling that familiar pull once more.

"Time is short and Aslan himself as asked me to gather more troops," Mr. Fox continued.

Now he had Brielle's full attention. Just as he did everyone else's. "You've seen Aslan?" Mr. Beaver demanded.

"What's he like?" Mrs. Beaver asked, eyes wide and wistful.

"Like everything we've ever heard," Mr. Fox replied. He looked to Peter and nodded. "You'll be glad to have him by your side in the battle against the witch." He lowered his head, as if bowing toward Peter, who took a step back, holding up his hands. His mouth opened, trying to find the words to say.

Susan was the one who spoke up, taking a step forward, lifting her chin as she did do. "But we're not planning on fighting any witch," she said quietly. Slowly. "We just want to find our brother and get home."

Mr. Fox's ears flattened against his head. He heard Susan's words but only addressed Peter. "But surely, King Peter, the prophecy-" He broke off, looking to Mr. and Mrs. Beaver for help.

Mr. Beaver stepped forward. "We can't go to war without you."

"We just want our brother back," Peter said.

"Then we should keep going," Brielle spoke up. All eyes turned to her. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her arms brushing over the fur on her coat. "No matter what you lot decide, if you're going to find your brother, or follow this prophecy, those wolves are going to come back once they've seen that we didn't go that way. My father says the worst thing you can do in times of war is to stand still. We need to get as far away as possible."

And so they went, leaving Mr. Fox behind as they traveled through the snow, moving as far away from Maugrim and the Secret Police as they could. As they traversed, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver explained the prophecy to Brielle. Two separate saying that stared foretold the end of the long winter.

_Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,_

_At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,_

_When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,_

_And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again._

_When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone,_

_Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,_

_The evil time will be over and done._

The winter they continued to slush through over the rocky terrain as they continued forward. Over hills, down mountain sides they walked. All until they came to the end of a gorge, where they found themselves staring out over a long, blank white sheet of ice.

Mr. Beaver pointed to the other side, where trees lined the edge of the river, the beginning and end of a forest. "Aslan's camp is near the Stone Table, just across the frozen river."

"River?" Peter repeated, eyes flickering over the ice.

"The river's been frozen solid for a hundred years," Mrs. Beaver explained. Her voice was reassuring. Nevertheless, Peter stared at the river, watching it for any movement. For any sign of a witch who was coming after them for a wolf pack who may have beat them to where they were trying to go. "What's wrong, dear?"

"It's just…" he stuttered. "It's just so far."

_So close and yet so far, _Brielle thought. So close to what they would see as sanctuary, so close to what may have been there to save them. But still so far from the safety they warranted. So far from finding Edmund, so far from determining why Brielle had been summoned to Narnia—or maybe, escape _to _Narnia, so far from the one thing that may save them.

Aslan.

"It's the world, dear," Mrs. Beaver replied. "Did you expect it to be small?"

"Small_er_," Susan corrected with a smug smile. Peter glared toward his sister, watching her as she stepped by him and started down the path that led them down a rocky slope that led to the frozen river's edge. She hesitated for the briefest of moments, inching her foot out onto the ice.

Lucy, on the other hand, started forward, stepping onto the ice with only a little slide. She held her arms out, wind milling them to keep herself upright. A giggle escaped her lips as she looked back to Peter and Susan. "Look, it's like ice skating," she declared before continuing forward. With the first step taken, the others followed.

"Do you like to ice skate?" Brielle asked Lucy, walking alongside her.

"Yes, it was lots of fun," Lucy replied. "We used to go with our mum and dad every year." Her nose wrinkled as she shook her head. "Ed isn't very good at it."

"It does take a while to get the hang of it," Brielle agreed. She wind milled her arms, coming to a stop when she nearly fell over.

"Do you know how to ice skate?"

"Not so much. It wasn't something we did very much at all. We went skiing a lot, though. Have you ever been to the Alps?"

Lucy shook her head. "Are they nice?"

Brielle smiled but didn't respond. She continued to look over her shoulder as the seconds passed, expecting to see the pack of wolves sprinting behind them at the last second for them to react. They had to have been getting closer. But every time she turned, there was nothing behind them. Just their footprints in the snow.

Their exhilaration with the snow and ice melted into frustration as the minutes ticked by and the other side of the river seemed to be even further away. It didn't help that Mr. Beaver continued to edge them along the further they fell behind.

"Come on, humans," he barked. "While we're still young."

"If he tells us to hurry one more time," Peter warned. He stopped walking to stoop down, allowing Lucy to climb onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to keep herself upright. Lucy rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm gonna turn him into a big, fluffy hat."

"I could use a hat right now," Brielle agreed, bringing her hands up to cover her red tipped ears.

"Sorry, but I don't think they are any expensive ones around here for you," Peter replied, a hint of sarcasm coming to his tone. "I suppose I could just take one of the Beavers and ask them if they'd like to climb on your head. But I don't think you want to mess up your hair."

"At least I have the hair to be messed up," Brielle shot back. "Has anyone ever told you it's not normal to go bald this early?"

Lucy giggled from over Peter's shoulder, her smile wide, showing off her missing teeth. Peter hitched her up his back as she started to slide down, "I thought you were going to get some rest," he teased her. "How can you rest when you're making fun of me?"

"From where I stand, it's pretty easy," Brielle shot back. "You're fourteen, right?" A slow grin came to her face as she folded her arms. "Have you really never seen a girl, before?"

"Oh, shut up," Peter replied darkly, cheeks turning red.

"Hurry up!" Mr. Beaver called again. "Come on!"

"He _is_ getting a little bossy," Lucy murmured.

"No!" Mrs. Beaver shrieked. She pointed behind them with a paw before starting off in a run. "Behind you, it's her!"

Peter instantly dropped Lucy to her feet as the four humans turned to see a sled hurtling their way. He grabbed Lucy's hand then started off, dragging his youngest sister behind her like a rag doll. "Run!" The order came before he moved, Susan and Brielle taking off ahead of them.

They charged through the snow and ice, slipping and sliding, feet threatening to spill out from beneath them as the sounds of the jingling bells on a sleigh and thundering hooves came closer and closer. Brielle's heart rammed against her chest, her heart ramming against her throat as she ran, just behind Susan, just before Peter and Lucy. Her shoes threatened to fly off, a half a size too big than her own, but she kept moving, pushing herself harder and faster.

Just as she used to, to get back home in time. Breaking away from her friends and racing home so that she could take care of her father, before he had too much time to himself. Too much time to stew in his memories, his horrific memories of an experience she and her mother would never experience. She always waited until the last minute, to tear herself away from the excitement of the day, to return to the bleakest point of the day.

She loved her father, but…

Brielle made it to the other side of the river, turned and held out her hands towards Peter and Lucy, to help them across. They made it to the side, careening into Brielle and Susan, the four nearly falling over as they came to a stop. The sleigh came up behind them, stopping to spray snow everywhere.

Peter flung out his arms, keeping the girls behind him as if to protect them from the onslaught of snow. They watched, gaping in disbelief, Peter slowly lowering his arms, when a tall man with a long gray beard, wearing a robe as red as holly berries, climbed out of the carriage and regarded them all with a smile.

"Aslan's man," Mr. Beaver breathed.

Lucy's face nearly split in half with her wide grin. She pushed her way from under Peter's arm and beamed up at the man. Santa Clause, Father Christmas. "Merry Christmas, sir." With gusto, she reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly.

"It certainly is, Lucy." Father Christmas's eyes shone with merriment. "It certainly is. Since you've arrived."

Susan, on the other hand, shook her head, lips parted in disbelief. Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Look, I've been up nearly since we got here…" She gestured toward Father Christmas. "But this?"

"We thought you were the witch," Brielle added. She brought a hand up to her chest, feeling her heart continue to pound. She swallowed hard, trying and failing to steady herself.

"Yes, sorry about that," Father Christmas replied with a chuckle. He placed his hands on his hips. He leaned towards the humans, lowering his voice to an inconspicuous whisper. "But in my defense, I've been driving one of these since before the witch."

"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Peter said, finally finding his voice.

At his words, Father Christmas became silent. His voice was soft when he spoke once more. Soft with sadness, but equally strong with indignant fury. "No. Not For a long time. But hope you have brought, your majesties, is finally starting to weaken the witch's power! Still…" He turned back to his carriage and pulled out a large sack. He dropped it to the ground. The top opened to reveal toys and presents filled to the brim drawing Peter, Susan, Brielle, and Lucy closer. "I guess you could do with these."

Father Christmas reached inside and first pulled out a tiny cordial covered in a velvet pouch. He held it out toward Lucy. "The juice of the fire flower," he said to her. "One drop will cure any injury." Then he reached into the bag and brought out a small dagger that he pressed into her other hand. "And I hope you will never have to use this."

Lucy's eyes widened as she gazed at the dagger. Even bigger than when she held the vial. Her lips pressed together and she turned her gaze, uncertain, up to him. "Thank you, sir. I think…I can be brave enough."

"I'm sure you could," Father Christmas agreed with a chuckle. "Battles are ugly affairs." He went back into the bag and pulled out a quiver full of arrows as well as a bow. He passed them to Susan. "Susan, trust in this bow and it will not easily miss."

The side of Susan's mouth turned up, uncertainly storming through her blue eyes. "What happened ot 'battles are ugly affairs'?" She asked, her voice taking on a light teasing despite it filled with a dark seriousness.

"Well, you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard." Father Christmas smiled. He took out a horn and handed it to Susan as well. "Blow into this and wherever you are, help will come."

"Thanks."

Brielle practically trembled when Father Christmas looked to her. She wasn't supposed to be in Narnia, wasn't part of the prophecy, but the way Father Christmas looked at he before digging into his bag…the way he handed her a leather bound book, pressing it firmly into her hands… "There're a lot of unspoken things about you," he said. "Things you haven't managed to say out loud. It's dangerous to keep them all in, your wishes, hopes, and dreams…they hold more power than you'd ever imagine." Then he produced a brooch on a thin, black choker and draped it around her neck. "Your power, stronger than you could ever imagine, lies within you." Brielle nodded, bringing her fingers up to touch the brooch around her neck. It felt cool to the touch, but simultaneously burned against her skin. Finally, Father Christmas reached into his sack and pulled out a sword and shied, handing them to Peter. The friendly twinkle in his eye turned serious. "Peter. Time to use these."

Peter took them graciously. "Thank you, sir," he murmured, examining his sword, slowly pulling it from its sheath to examine it. He was silent for a long moment, eyes roving over the weapon in his hands. Taking it in for what it was. _His _weapon against the war. Much different than the guns and bombs their fathers had used.

"These are tools," Father Christmas continued, as if reading her mind. Peter looked up. "Not toys. Bare them well and wisely. Now. I must be off. Winer is almost over." He flashed a grin, swinging the bag of presents back onto his sleigh. "Things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years. Long live Aslan!" He jumped onto his sleigh, readied his reindeer to start running once more. "And Merry Christmas." With a wave and a shout, Father Christmas raced off through the snow.

The thundering of hooves faded off into nothing.

Silence.

"He said winter was almost over," Peter murmured. "You know what that means?" Susan looked at him meaningfully. "No more ice."

Brielle didn't want to point out that, 'no more ice' didn't just mean that the witch's reign was slowly ending. It also meant it would be much easier for the wolves to find them.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, I had to change some of the timeline of things that happened in LWW for some of what happened here to make sense. That's something that, I feel, is a staple of some of my writing that's set directly in canon.

I especially liked giving you all an even bigger look into Susan and Brielle's burgeoning friendship. They come from different worlds, but there are some things that can really bring people together

I hope you enjoyed another look into Brielle's past, as well as what she'd done in LWW and how it affects her. Eventually you'll see what happened in PC, too.

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	14. Chapter 13: Edmund's Just

**Chapter Thirteen: **

* * *

Brielle lifted her head, shaking her hair back from her face, equally shaking out her hands. Her fingertips burned with the pain of pinching her sewing needle so tightly between her thumb and forefingers. She hefted the large dress across her lap and let out a quiet breath, looking up when Edmund strolled into the sewing room.

She smiled when he stopped shirt, brown eyes shifting along the faces of the servants that sat around her. He gave a small smile, tipping his head when they started to giggle quietly. Brielle had to keep her own composure, seeing his discomfort practically radiate off him. It seemed to happen every time he was in the company of anyone from the opposite sex who he didn't deem to be a friend. And seemed to happen even more since the welcome ball that they'd attended.

"Yes, Edmund, can I help you?" Brielle asked. Though she had a good idea of what it was he wanted to tell her.

"Um, well," he paused, looked at the servants, and lifted his chin. "May we have the room, please?" He asked, addressing the servants that knelt around Brielle. Brielle nodded to them and they got to their feet, brushing off the skirts of their dresses before filing out the room one by one. "I just wanted to let you know that Peter's gone off to Cair Paravel."

"Oh, did he leave already?" Brielle tried not to smirk, already knowing that he'd had left. And of the rumors that were starting to spread around the castle. "He got an early start." Then she looked closely at him. "Did you come here to tell me that or did you want your tunic repaired?"

"I wanted my tunic repaired," Edmund said honestly, holding out the fabric he held tightly in his grasp. "I never did get it done after we faced against the Telmarines. And you seem to have put yourself in a pretty good position here." He sat on the floor at her feet while Brielle took his tunic and carefully draped it over the back of her chair. "It's hard to believe that I'm already starting to think of Telmar as home."

"Anvard isn't that bad," Brielle said. "It's actually quite lovely here. Then again," She tilted her head the other way, going back to the hole she was sewing on one of Susan's dresses. "I've been here longer than you lot have been in Narnia." She looked him in the eye. "The Kingdom, not the country."

"Yeah, I know," Edmund agreed. "It just…it feels weird here. It's obvious that our treaty with Archenland has passed and they're not happy that we're here. King Nain doesn't trust us, so he treats us as—"

"—His guests?"

"—His guests that he needs to keep an eye on. Does he think we're going to stage some sort of an uprising? It's not like we have any of the magical creatures or our old friends to help us out." Edmund brought his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees. "We only had what was left of Aslan's army and now they're working to rebuild Cair Paravel."

"So?"

"So, it'd be the best time for anyone to attack our home and Peter went there by himself."

That made Brielle's smile widened into a fond one. "Oh, so you're worried about your brother, then." Edmund rolled his eyes while Brielle hummed to herself. "I'm going to tell him you said that. I'm sure Peter will be touched."

"Oh, sod off." Edmund rolled his eyes, tightened his grasp around his upraised knee. "I was just thinking of when we were facing off against Miraz. We were able to even have some of the Telmarines deflect to our side. Surely, we could do the same with this. But King Nain didn't seem to be swayed, he's already had his mind made up."

"King Nain is a stubborn man," Brielle agreed. With deft fingers, she finished up the sewing on the side of Susan's dress. Then, she lifted the thread to her mouth and ripped through it with her teeth. Once that was finished, she picked up Edmund's tunic and turned it this way and that, looking at the holes that lined the front and sides. With a light sigh, she pressed her fingers into the holes and looked at Edmund meaningfully. "Hard to believe all the chainmail and armor protected you for so long."

"Well." Edmund shrugged. "Once you get stabbed the first time, you get used to it all the other times."

"I wouldn't know."

All her armory had proved to be enough in caring for her protection. And, she had listened to the others and stayed back out of the way. Until she had to get into the fight. While Susan and Lucy went off to find Aslan, Susan had ordered her lady-in-waiting to stay in the cave with the others. And so she stayed, and worried, and wondered what was going to happen to her best friends with the battle not too far away.

They all managed to survive the first time, but the battle on Miraz's castle had been costly. They lost far too many allies. Enough so that there weren't many to rebuild Cair Paravel and Narnia to the way they knew it to be but worked diligently under Aslan's spirit radiating around them.

"Jadis got me good," Edmund continued. He reached out and pointed toward a spot toward the side of his stomach, just by his bellybutton. "After I broke her wand."

"I remember," Brielle replied. She hadn't seen it, not directly. But she'd felt the surge of power after Jadis's wand had been broken. Heard Peter scream Edmund's name. She saw him laying prone on the ground before she, Susan, and Lucy scrambled down the rocky cliff-face and knelt by his side while Peter cradled his younger brother's upper body in his arms. She cried for him as the siblings had, thinking he was gone, before Lucy's cordial brought him back to life. Pushing the thought away, Brielle lifted the tunic and held it up in front of Edmund, grinning teasingly. "Hard to believe this still fits you." She wiggled it back and forth, making it appear to dance.

"Well, it's the smaller of the ones I had," Edmund reminded her. "When we were older, I had an all new set of clothes I wore into battle." He shook his head, moving his mop of floppy hair out of his eyes. "I reckon I was a better negotiator then as well."

Brielle looked carefully at Edmund. Could see the confusion, frustration, and trepidation in his eyes, no knowing what was going to happen with Archenland and Narnia if they weren't able to come to an agreement soon. They'd seen how badly treaties could go and didn't want to become another one of them.

In the Golden Age, Edmund was the negotiator for everything that needed negotiating. It started off as little squabbles between some of the species of talking animals in Narnia, all trying to figure out what was theirs and what wasn't while not under Jadis's rule anymore. And Edmund took it all in stride, with a very whimsical and childlike fashion to it. And that was how he grew to be known as King Edmund the Just. With his fair rules. He became an ambassador to all those within his rule.

It was evident, even when he was talking to Miraz, telling him how Peter demanded a fair fight to prove who was going to rule over Narnia. He took control of the deal. And Brielle had stood by him while he did so, impressed with the way he dealt with Miraz's air of power. It reminded Brielle that Edmund was smart. Everyone heralded Susan's logic and common sense, but Edmund was the one who used his intelligence and wisdom in ways no one had ever seen.

She stood by while Edmund read off the decree, calm, clear, and powerful. "I Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by the election of my conquest, High Kind of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands, in order to prevent the abominable effusion of blood do hereby challenge to usurp Miraz, to single combat upon the field of battle," Edmund had read aloud from the scroll, head held high. He only paused once, swallowing hard when he read, "The fight shall be to the death. The reward shall be total surrender."

And Miraz had simply chuckled at him, stroking his bead when he said, "Tell me Prince Edmund-" only to blink rapidly and in confusion when Edmund, _King _Edmund, dared to interrupt him and correct him with the word "King." It threw Miraz so off-kilter that he paused, and practically whispered, "Pardon me?" in response.

But Edmund was calm, cool, and collected when he packed up the scroll and explained, "It's King Edmund, actually. Just King, though. Peter's the High King." And he finished it off with a shrug and a flippant, "I know it's confusing."

Miraz had smiled at that. Waved his hand for Edmund to continue. He wasn't going to kill him then, and even if he did, it would have been for the worst reasons and with nothing more than a vendetta that'd bring the Narnians after him even further than they already were. "Why would you risk such a proposal when our armies can wipe you out by nightfall?" Miraz had asked him.

Edmund had scoffed lightly, unable to keep the tiniest of smiles from his face when he said, "Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" In response. "I mean, only a week ago, Narnians were extinct."

"And so you will be again."

"Then you should have little to fear."

"This is not a question of bravely."

"So you're bravely refusing to fight a Kingsman half you age?"

That was the part that made Brielle almost burst out laughing, seeing the way Miraz's neck bulged as he clenched his teeth, did his best to keep his anger in check. It amazed her to see how easily he took control of the situation. He manipulated Miraz, triggered him with the scathing statement that he couldn't take on someone who was younger than him. But that was the interesting part, because Edmund and Miraz were on the same level. And the explanation of Peter's being the High King was the reminder that Miraz was beneath him.

But the funniest point of it all was that, technically, in his thirties, having grown to be well into his adult year when living in the Golden Age before being sent back to Narnia. But that older man had never left Peter, or the rest of the Pevensies as it were,

Edmund just reminded Miraz of that, egged him on a little.

And it was, truly, Edmund who started Miraz's downfall by exploiting that little fact.

"If it weren't for you, Edmund, no one would be here today," Brielle reminded him gently. "It may take a while before it's evident in the history of Narnia. Things may not be the same as the Golden Age was once more. But I can assure you it will be marked down in history." She threaded the needle and started to sew once more, using deft movements that Edmund worked to track, eyes bouncing around but unable to stick with her movement. "It'll be a story for the ages."

Edmund hummed to himself. "Has anyone else told you that, maybe, you should be the negotiator?"

Brielle laughed to herself. "What makes you think that?"

"Because you always seem to know what to say."

"Oh. That." Now it was Brielle's turn to roll her eyes. She waved her hand. "That's just because I talk a lot, I reckon I'm bound to stumble on _something _interesting." Her upper lip curled into a sneer. "Secret is, I hate the sound of my own voice."

Edmund look at her and started laughing.

Brielle aimed a kick at him. "You try being a girl and having such a low and raspy voice and tell me how you feel."

"Well, I quite like being a guy so…" Edmund ran a hand through his hair. He looked at her curiously, in worry when Brielle flashed him an evil smile, teeth and all. "What?"

"I'm sure there are many here that are glad that you're a bloke as well," Brielle agreed. She tipped her head toward the door to the room. Now she wasn't even looking at the sewing in her hand. As if it were moving by itself. "I could talk to any of the servants if you'd like." She laughed when Edmund groaned. "The older you get, again, the more it's going to happen."

"I know."

"Don't you want what Peter and Queen Diane had." Brielle ducked her head, working to keep her face from taking on the emotion that flashed through her stomach. May she rest in peace," she added in a low murmur. She peered at Edmund through her bangs, while he let out a long breath, shaking his head.

Instead of responding, however, he simply said, "May she rest in peace," in agreement to Brielle's earlier statement. Then he lifted his chin and said, "If you forget, I was courting then. But you know the rule under marriage wasn't the most important thing to me. Narnia was."

"Yes, and marrying for love and all of that." Brielle lifted her chin, worked to keep her face pleasant and not sneer—this time the sneer would've been for and entirely different reason. "That was always on the bottom of your list."

"My friends were just as fulfilling." Edmund blew out a long breath. "And after what Pete went through…"

Brielle quickly lifted her head, holding up her hand. All at once, Edmund fell silent. The two regarded each other for a moment before the clued in on the sound that had caught her attention. Shouting. Distant shouting. And it took them a little bit to realize that it was Susan's shouting they were hearing.

Edmund scrambled to his feet and hurried from the room while Brielle chasing after him. They burst out through the doors of Anvard and out into the courtyard, seeing Susan standing in the center of the yard. Her face was screwed up in an expression of fury as she glared at two knights in front of her, mounted on two horses that held a man tied between them.

Queen Aria standing not too far away, watching.

Susan's hands equally shook with fury while she regarded the Archenland guards, who slowly started to move, the man tied in the middle wiggling pitifully. The horses continued to separate, the ropes tightening around the man, making him scream in pain.

"Riders stop!" Susan shouted, holding up her hand. "Dismount and reign in your horses! Now!"

The head knight cast a dismissive glance toward her.

"Even a queen needs grounds," he growled.

"Unbind him," Susan continued to declare. "An execution in this manner shall not happen. No matter what the crime has been committed." She looked to Queen Aria. "This is not just."

"You're calling the way we handle our prisoners accused of treason unjust?" Queen Aria asked, lifting an eyebrow. She turned toward her once more. "You dare to disrespect the way we work when you are guests in our kingdom."

"Whether this man has been accused of treason or not, this is not a just form of execution," Susan continued. She swallowed hard. "As it is, execution is the lowest form of punishment, it never justifies the crime."

"And what if the crime was the murder of your dear brother," Queen Aria continued. "Of the High King of Narnia?"

"Just leave it, Su," Edmund called. But Susan didn't take her attention away from the spectacle before her. He exchanged a glance with Brielle, tightened his hands into fists. "This isn't something that is under our rule."

"Listen to the boy," Queen Aria agreed.

Edmund's eyes darkened. He stepped down to Susan's side. "But if we're to have a treaty with Archenland as we have before, there are common laws that have to be followed," he reminded them. We're all under Aslan's rule, and this is not what Aslan would want."

Queen Aria lifted her hand, taking the attention of the knights her way. She made a gesture with her hand and the main knight dropped from his horse and went to the man tied to the back of it, releasing him. The other knight grabbed the man under the arms and hoisted him to his feet, then walked him around the side of the castle.

Brielle watched; her eyebrows knitted together. She gently chewed her lower lip, watching the exchange.

Queen Aria's lips stretched at the corners as she walked towards Susan and Edmund. "We invite you here as our guests," she said slowly. "And are working to make this alliance something that both of our kingdoms can profit from. And you're going to question our way of life." She shook her head. "It must be hard for you to understand how much things have changed since your absence and the long since passing of the Golden Age. Your disappearance has hurt us badly and we're only doing the best we can to ensure that we're not caught off-guard as we have been before." She shook her head, looking the two in the eye. "I can't imagine waking up to find that my husband had been assassinated because of I provided mercy on someone who wouldn't have provided him any."

"I understand that," Susan said firmly, blue eyes flashing. "There have been many that have tried to hurt us as the years have gone on and we haven't gone to such inhumane extremes. There are better ways to handle these sorts of situations."

Queen Aria nodded. She stepped toward Susan and reached out, placing her hand on the young woman's cheek. Gently patted it. "I'm sure there are, your highness," Queen Aria agreed. "And I hope you can help us figure it out better than we already have." With that, she swished away from the group and slipped back into the castle, making Brielle step aside from the door as she did so.

"This isn't going to do well for our treaty," Edmund said after a moment of silence that stretched between them. "But I think I can turn them around."

"I hope you can," Susan agreed, her eyes flashing with determination.

Brielle folded her arms across her chest and smiled a smile so faint that if anyone looked at her, they would think she was just as disturbed by what they'd seen in front of her.

* * *

**A/N: **Ooh, tensions are mounting now. Archenland has worked on their own while not in alliance with Narnia, and they've turned jaded since other factions have risen to power. It's not going to be easy for things to work out between them, but I'm sure they will…right?

Thank you all for the reviews and the support you've bene showing me so far. It's been very motivating as I keep writing and telling the story. I'm sure you're curious as to how the romance aspect is supposed to come in with Brielle actively trying to kill him, but you'll see! It'll be good!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	15. Chapter 14: Ruins

**Chapter Fourteen: **_Ruins_

* * *

Peter stepped out of the carriage when it drew to a stop in the distance of where Cair Paravel once stood. Where it was slowly being rebuilt. There had been more progress since they'd gone to Archenland, even more progress than the time they'd spent in Telmar. The walls had been reconstructed; the multiple spires poked out into the cerulean sky. It was going to be home again, they'd be leaving Telmar and going back to Cair Paravel…so long as Aslan allowed them to stay in Narnia.

He could see where the Great Hall was being formed; where they were crowned as the Kings and Queens of Narnia. Where they had audiences with those that needed their attention and problems tended to, where they had all celebrations. And as he stood staring at it, he pictured the inside perfectly.

The marble-stone, the tiled floor, the columns decorated with gold at the top and bottom, the curved stairway near the entrance that led to the balconies with gold railings, the open doorways that led to a balcony that overlooked the sea, the high dais that led to the thrones that belonged to him and his siblings, the glass roof. He remembered it all, and while he was excited to see it was coming to be the same, something heavy settled in his gut.

Peter swallowed hard, lowering his chin, remembering all the happier times. Birthday celebrations that had been for the Pevensies as well as for the magical creatures and those that worked the castle with them, celebrations of births and marriages, celebrations of victories over battles that had been brought upon their land, the yearly celebration of Jadis's defeat…and the anniversary of his own marriage.

It all flooded back to him in that moment, the excitement that swelled through the castle from the time they'd become engaged to when they tied the knot. The burgeoning excitement to when he and Diana whispered to each other about what their future children would be like, not simply to pass on the Pevensie name for Narnia, but for their own excitement of the extension of their family. He remembered the way he would find himself sweeping through many rooms and halls in the castle, greeting the servants and workers who would pause and give him a bow in greeting, only to be surprised by her tiny hand sliding into his, before a light giggle would reach his ears when he'd turn to face her.

"Scared you?" She'd always aske.

The answer was always, obviously, 'no', she couldn't scare him even if her life depended on it. When playing hide and seek, when trying to sneak up on him at all, her excited giggles would always give her away. Most of the time he pretended not to hear them, having to wipe away the smiles that came to his face, and pretend to be stern when warning her not to scare him in case he mistook her for an enemy.

He wondered if it were possible for giggles to haunt as much as screams.

"Your majesty." Peter turned to see the female centaur, Windmane quietly plodding toward him. Behind her was her husband Glenstrom and their children, Ironhoof, and Suncloud. Peter looked over the three—what should've been four—and quickly looked away. He sucked in a deep breath, puffing out his chest, and moved closer to the centaurs. "It's great to see you, again." She had an armful of apples that she gestured toward Peter to take.

He felt the sinking in his stomach elevate just slightly, a small smile coming to his face. Reaching out, he picked the biggest, juiciest apple she held and took a bite of it. The sweetness made him smile wider, chuckling to himself when he remembered how he and his siblings and Brielle had arrived back in Narnia.

How they had made their way from the beach to the outskirts of, what they didn't know at the time, was the ruins of their home. Peter remembered how he walked through the orchard, picking up an apple as he went. He buffed it against his chest, looked it over for a moment, then tossed it toward his youngest sister, calling her name to get her attention as he did so.

Lucy caught the apple with a smile, clutching it to her chest. "Thanks," she said then brought it to her mouth, taking a large bite. She looked to Susan and Edmund, who gazed upon the apple orchard that continued to stretch around them, flowers blossoming on the branches that sheltered them from the sweltering heat. Peter picked out another apple and pressed it into Brielle's palm before continuing forward. "Does anyone still have their sandwiches?" Lucy had then asked, voice muffled by the chunks of apple she worked around.

"Well," Peter said casually, practically stroking his chin as he did so. He tugged at the collar of the dress shirt below his sweater vest, working hard to remove the heat that became entrapped there with the overhanging sun. "I left mine in my bag, and I left my bag in the train station." He smiled at Lucy over his shoulder. "And then I left the train station in England."

"Why didn't you give any of us an apple then?" Edmund asked. He pressed a hand to his stomach, nudging Susan with his elbow. "Su and I may be hungry, too. Why just Lucy?"

"Because I'm his favorite," Lucy said with a bright smile, making a show of taking another bite of her apple.

Susan's eyebrows twitched upwards, the side of her mouth curling up into an amused smile. A knowing smile that made her blue eyes sparkle with mischief. "Then what'd you give _her _an apple for?" She tipped her head toward Brielle, who was examining the apple Peter had given her as if it were poison.

Peter sent a smirk toward Brielle as he replied, "To shut her up," making Brielle stick her tongue out at him in response. But she _had _been talking a mile a minute since their arrival at Narnia, going on about where they were and how she needed to get her hair and makeup fixed as soon as possible.

Peter wasn't sure if he would've preferred that or the way the centaur family was looking at him, waiting for any sort of response. He smiled up at her and said, "It looks like a lot of work has been done on Cair Paravel," that made each of the centaurs smile.

"Would you like to see what we've done up close?" Glenstrom asked. He nodded toward his children. "Take a break once you take patrol of the castle." Ironhoof and Suncloud nodded and went off to do as they were told. Glenstrom fell in line with Windmane and the two plodded toward the front of Cair Paravel with Peter following him. Only after looking to see what the knights of Archenland were to stay with the carriage.

They seemed to have little to no interest in what was to happen once Peter got where he was going. So long as he were to return. They stayed by the carriage, resting against the sides, looking anywhere but at the High King and the centaurs that escorted him inside.

"We still have the south side of the castle to rebuild, but with Caspian's support and the Telmarines that have come to aid in the building, it shouldn't be long until the kingdom is what it once was," Windmane said. She smiled at her husband. "Glenstrom has been putting long hours into the construction himself. I can hardly pull him away."

"There's more than enough that needs to be done," Glenstrom reminded her. "And I do it to bide my time." He lowered his head, then smiled to Peter. "When I'm not helping Caspian with his jousting skills."

"Well, that explains why he hasn't been able to defeat me in our sparring matches as of late," Peter joked back. Windmane chuckled in amusement while Glenstrom rolled his eyes, huffing quietly. His eyes shifted over the walls of the "You certainly have been putting in a lot of work here at the castle. It looks like it won't be much longer until it's completed."

"There's still the south side that needs to be completed," Glenstrom explained. "The turrets that have to be finished, exterior walls for extra protection. And there is the talk of potentially adding in a gate at the front, keeping anyone out that may try to sneak into our castle."

Peter's insides froze at the mention, froze at the dark turn that Glenstrom's voice took.

Slowly, everything around him became muffled, the tweeting and chirping of the birds around him drowned out by the sounds of a battle waging around him. Only, the sound of a battle that had been waged months before. Of the sound of the minotaur screaming as he worked to hold up the gate on Miraz's castle that was slowly starting to fall, holding the forces of Miraz's people back as the Narnian faction took down as many of them as they could.

Drowned out by the screams of those shot down in a bloody battle that Miraz pushed even further, sacrificing his own men to ruthlessly crumble the forces of the Narnian side, riddling them with arrows shot by his men that lined the balconies and walls of the castle courtyard. Drowned out by the then deafening silence with the screaming stopped, the silence following him like a nightmare as he sat on the back of his horse, running away as fast as he could, having to swallow the pain of not only letting down those that lay dead, but of letting down Aslan—if by name—as well.

Peter hadn't realized he'd wandered off, away from the centaurs until he allowed himself to break free from the memories he tried his hardest not to think about. Until he looked up and realized that he'd walked into the room that used to be his. A large room, the largest of the lot—he'd been quick to bagsy it when they'd been given a tour of Cair Paravel for the first time—the walls lined with brick and cobblestone, a large chandelier made of candles hanging from the ceiling. One wall held the most lovely of fireplaces, with seating and a table just around it, where he could sit and read when the time came.

On the other side was the largest of a four-poster bed, yellow draperies hanging off the side and matched the bedspread. Red pillows and other ornaments adorned the bed and the walls of the room, off-setting the brightest of yellows.

It was neater than he remembered, than he'd always been. He was messy yet organized…Diane was the one who truly made it so that he could stay organized with everything in their room. She'd put her own touch on things when she moved in, made sure not to take over too much of his things.

There was no trace of her in that room.

Peter walked to the window that overlooked the seaside, the sun setting just behind the horizon. Took in a deep breath, allowing the salty air to fill his lungs and give him some semblance of life. Something energized him as he stood in the window, looking at the mess below that seemed to be what would eventually be the rest of the place they'd call home. They hadn't had a home since returning to Narnia, he didn't realize how much he'd missed it.

_"You seem like you have something on your mind, your highness."_

Closing his eyes, Peter could practically hear Diane moving behind him, ready to place her hand lovingly into his, then, seconds later, bring her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder gently stroking his neck. The lightest touch enough to send shivers down his spine. It was a hard habit for her to break, he realized, her calling him 'your highness' when she was, in fact, on the same level of title and power.

They'd always seemed to start each morning the same way, whether standing at the window or wrapped in each other's arms in bed, she would gently stroke her fingers over his face and question what was on his mind. A question that, if brought forward by his brothers or sisters, would irritate him like no other, but was somehow able to lower his defenses when she asked him. She asked him about his quests in battle, his dreams for the future, his nightmares, his hopes, how much he missed his parents back in England, his love for Narnia, asked for advice in political matters, and most importantly, was there for him as his best friend.

He could trust her, was always able to know that the decisions he'd made for Narnia was talked through for any and all potential loopholes that could be bought into. Then he'd bring it to his siblings, and the four of them would come up with the ultimate ruling that would come for whatever problem had come around.

She'd done enough in her own right, not simply sitting around and living under the title High Queen. She wanted to make a change for all women living in the court of Narnia to have a voice, to take hold of their own lives no matter what it was they wanted out of the future. And she'd left her mark on the way those in Narnia lived.

She'd sat back and waved him off to chase after the White Stag with a lighthearted comment of, The sooner you find that stag, the sooner you can come back and help me prepare this dinner."

"And what if I make it my wish that I'm no longer required to work those dinners of yours?" Peter replied with the brightest of smiles. "They're more difficult than half of the battles that I've ever gone into."

"That's why I need your help, love," Diane replied. She laughed to herself, gave him a kiss, and pushed on his shoulder. "Go. Go on. I'll be here when you get back."

_How long did she wait? _Peter stepped away from the window and turned to leave the room, unable to handle the silence much longer. He paused, stopping long enough for his eyes to dart toward the corner of the room. There was nothing there, but something had to have moved, hadn't it? Something dark and mysterious, looming and waiting to attack.

Maybe it was the stress of the journey, he reminded himself. The long journey to travel back to Narnia, all by himself with the guards from Archenland. Nothing along with him but the sounds of the carriages rolling and his thoughts moving through his brain. Thoughts of the treaty with Archenland, wondering how they were going to move in a more positive direction, how they would show the other kingdoms that Telmarine, now out of Miraz's rule, was a kingdom that could be trusted, how he and his brothers and sisters could bring their presence to Narnia once more. To show their subjects and those following them that Narnia could be restored to the way it was in the Golden Age.

Wondered how things were going to continue under a rule of, potentially, five kings and queens, if not under Caspian and what it would mean for him if he were to give up his control over a country he loved so much.

But all that was pushed to the wayside when with the quick shift of…something. Peter stared into the darkened corner of the room, the steadily darkening corner as the night sky darkened in equal measure. Stared, stared, stared at the swirling darkness that deepened among the dying embers of the fireplace. Stared until the darkness moved, the shadows shifting and swirling until eyes peered out at him from it.

Blinked once.

Peter jumped, hearing a door closing somewhere in the castle. He took in a deep breath and strode quickly out of the room and back down to the great hall. He passed by the Telmarine servants who looked back at him before looking away. Not wanting to invite him to join them, as if still ashamed of the ruling they had to live under. Though they were the innocents. Peter had to remind himself of that, they were as much victims of a heartless and cruel dictator than his direct cohorts.

"King Peter," Glenstrom called, his voice echoing over the partially built walls. All eyes turned his way as he edged closer to the king. Peter looked back at him, opened and closed his mouth. So many words rushed to him at once, words of apology, words to beg of forgiveness for the pain that he'd caused the centaur for losing one of his sons, blindly following him into battle. Glenstrom seemed to have noticed what Peter was trying to say, for he lowered his chin. "I understand," he said. "But it was our choice to continue showing our devotion to your and the other kings and queens. We understood what was possible to happen. I would not make a different choice, if it were possible to turn back time."

Peter nodded. He cleared his throat and nodded towards the outskirts of the castle. "I just wanted to get some air."

"Would you like some company?"

"I'll be fine."

Peter started again but stopped when Glenstrom continued. "I must remind you that Narnia isn't as strong as it used to be. The ruins of Cair Paravel are a shelter from the storm but aren't a complete defense for those that may want to take advantage of our weakness."

That was the same thing Peter had said to his siblings when he was about to leave Anvard. With a firm smile, Peter reached out and tapped his fingertips on the hilt of Rhindon that stuck out of the sheath hung at his side. "I can take care of myself," he said. Then drew himself to his full height and looked Glenstrom in the eye. "Now, I'm ordering you to spend your night with your family."

Glenstrom lowered his chin. "Then I must tell you that I'm doing it under duress, but by the order of my king." He turned and went to follow orders, to spend time with his family.

Peter left the castle, following the path he took up to Cair Paravel, but branched off to the right when he reached the Apple Orchard, heading toward the Treasure Room. He walked down the crumbling steps, feeling the temperature in the air change the further down he went. The flickering lights of the ever-burning candles cast an orange glow on the walls.

A glow that was snuffed out when he turned the corner and came face to face with four men staring back at him. They weren't Telmarines; they didn't have the Mediterranean colorings he knew of Caspian and the others had. The men before him were dark-skinned with long, scraggly beards that stretched down toward their barrel chests. Their flowing robes caught on the draft that breezed through the Treasure Room, wooden shoes scraped against the ground as they all turned themselves and their scimitars toward Peter.

Calormens.

Their beads stretched over their faces as they grinned the most evil grins, slowly menacingly, moving closer toward Peter.

"Fall back!" Peter had shouted when he was outnumbered, stuck in the middle of Miraz's courtyard, facing certain death.

But this time, there was no one for him to shout for. No one to get out of the way so he could protect them. His job, now, was to protect himself. And he'd do so until his last breath. He tightened his grasp around the handle of Rhindon, closely watching the men that encircled him.

Waited for them to make the first strike.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, the life of asking isn't easy and it certainly isn't when Peter's worrying over how Narnia is going to improve, how Cair Paravel needs to be restored, and the amount of guilt he feels over everything that happened at Telmar.

What do you think of the continued inclusions of scenes from the movies? I really think it helps move the story along! And it helps to flesh things out. Plus, the further inclusion of Diane and her past with Peter makes things interesting as well, but things with Maugrim are coming back and things are heating up with the next chapter. Also, longer chapters! Whoohoo!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	16. Chapter 15: Past Guilt

**Chapter Fifteen: **Past Guilt

* * *

Susan took a deep breath through her nose, out her mouth. Relaxed all the muscles in her shoulders and back before she stood ramrod straight. With a slight pucker to her lips, she lifted her arms, moving into the correction position to send an arrow flying. Waited for the wind to blow just right so that she could use it to her advantage. Or else use it to know when _not _to shoot off the arrow, knowing it would only be picked up and carried away.

With another steadying breath, Susan strengthened the muscles in her arms, shoulders, back, waited for the right moment, and released her fingers.

_Fwit._

_Thwap._

She smiled to herself, lowering her hand when she saw her arrow had struck true, right in the center of the target that had been set up. Susan squinted just slightly, lowering her arms. She'd hit the target right in the center but…just slightly off center. Only those that knew archery as well as she would notice it wasn't a true bullseye.

That annoyed her a little. Not so much that she missed, but that she wasn't using her own bows and arrows. They'd been left in Telmar, on the thought that they wouldn't have been in Anvard too long. However, they also expected the negotiations with King Nain and Queen Aria to go through their treaties faster. Susan had been practical about the whole thing, had warned Peter and Caspian that it may not be as easy as they'd thought it'd be.

"I think we've seen for ourselves," Susan said when they told her the plan. "Narnia isn't the same as it used to be. As we remember it. We don't know how things are, politically, anymore." She gestured toward Caspian. "I think everything that's happened with Caspian is proof."

"My uncle has changed the way Telmar has behaved," Caspian said evenly. "I can assure you, under my father's rule, it wasn't nearly as worrying."

"And Archenland has been our friends," Peter agreed. "Through more than one occasion. The passage of time isn't going to change that."

And, once again, Susan had been proven right. But, this time, she kept herself from giving her brother a big, fat, 'I told you so'. Knowing it wasn't the time or place for it. Maybe, when they were able to be back in the comforts of their own homes, they could be siblings again. Not just Kings and Queens who ruled a country.

"That was a nice shot." Susan looked over her shoulder to see Caspian coming up to her side.

"Certainly, a lot better than you could do," Susan replied with an uplifting tone to her voice. A tone that surprised her as much as it did Caspian. Or, rather, surprised her that she noticed it. Noticed how she'd done it since she'd kissed him, thinking she'd never see him again.

Caspian smiled warmly at her. "Yes, I think you've proven that to me before." He thought for a moment. "Now, I can't take up a bow an arrow without remembering how you proved me wrong."

"I hope it wasn't too difficult of a lesson for you."

"Well, it was an easier lesson to learn. You've never sat with Doctor Cornelius." Susan nodded, remembering the man they'd gone in to save when taking on Miraz's castle. She watched as Caspian moved closer to her side, studying the shot she'd just taken. "He was the only one who truly treated me as a person. Not just a prince. As the future King."

"What sort of lessons did he teach you?" Susan lowered her arm to her side, running her fingers over the string of her bow. "Maths and Science?"

Caspian bowed his head, eyes shifting back and forth. As if trying to figure out what she was speaking about. For a moment, Susan felt self-conscious. Speaking about things that, as far as she knew, were only on her Earth.

A part of her old life.

And, for that moment, Susan remembered what it was like; going to school, where she saw all her friends. Where she studied all sorts of subjects that stretched her mind and showed her what the world had to offer. Where she'd have some time away from having to parent Lucy and Edmund alongside Peter. She remembered having brought that knowledge to Narnia, where they'd taught all the talking animals and those that worked in the castle as much as they'd wanted to learn.

It was interesting how much fun she had teaching things that she used to sit in class absorbing like a sponge. Even more interesting I how her brothers and sister, who weren't as interested in education as she was, finding enjoyment in teaching others. It had them grow up a little. But it also kept them connected to their old home while they adjusted to Narnia being their new home.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intend for you to become saddened," Caspian said, breaking Susan from his thoughts. "I was just interested to know a little more about your old life."

Susan leveled her gaze on him. Smiled. "Oh, no. No, I was just…" She reached up a hand, brushing her escaped hair back behind her ear. "I was just thinking…I hadn't thought about that part of my life in a while. Once everything with Miraz…I guess I forgot that we'd only just returned." She thought for a moment. "What other things did Doctor Cornelius teach you? It couldn't have just been maths and science…"

"No, it was many things. I was taught mathematics,"—he smiled at Susan, making her smile back—"And history and grammar. And politics and astronomy." He looked wistfully out across the grounds of Anvard. "I was mostly taught astronomy."

"Astronomy?" Susan felt her nose wrinkle.

With a chuckle, Caspian explained. "They were true astronomy lessons at first. But then he showed me…of the conjunction of the planets Tarva and Alambil. It was an event significant to Narnia. It was then he told he was part dwarf and it was then that he started to teach me about Old Narnia."

"He's part dwarf?" Susan shook her head. "I thought he was human."

"So did I. And so did my uncle. That was his plan, he didn't believe the politics of my uncle, the harsh tactics he was thrusting upon our people." His hand clenched into a fist, shaking at his side. Susan glanced at it then up into Caspian's face once more. "Doctor Cornelius did all he could to teach me the truth. So that I wouldn't forget what it was like to be a true ruler, once it was my time to do so."

Susan reached out, placing her free hand, gently, upon Caspian's. It continued to shake but lessened upon her touch. Caspian looked down at their hands then up at her. Question swam through his eyes, though his mouth relaxed into a smile.

"How did you come about my horn, then?" She asked. "You were the one who blew it to ask for help. That's what brought us back here to Narnia in the first place."

Caspian blinked rapidly. He tilted his head, trying to remember the frantic course of events that set everything in motion. "Doctor Cornelius had it…I…I'm not sure where he found it. It was something that was heralded of those who had been a part of your rule. They searched for it after you all had disappeared."

"Huh. Disappeared." Susan lowered her gaze to her feet. Took in a deep breath, did her best to blink back the tears that threatened to come to her eyes. Just as they always did when she thought to those, her friends, that had waited for their return. And had perished before they could see the return. "Is that what they thought? Is that the story the told?"

"Susan…"

"We left, Caspian," Susan said. "We may not have wanted to, but we left. There was something familiar of the lamp post and our surroundings, but instead of turning back to chase after the stag we…" She continued to look at her feet. "But our people didn't know that. They only knew that we'd abandoned them. They didn't know that we hadn't _wanted _to leave, that there was this magical pull that kept us moving forward. The very same as that magical pull that brought us back here."

Caspian removed his hand from hers. Tucking his thumb under his index finger, Caspian pressed his hand to Susan's chin. He lifted it upward until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. "That wasn't your fault," he said. "Whatever it was that had brought you to Narnia then was over. It was a magic that was too strong to be denied. The people do not blame you for that. You weren't around to know that."

"If that were the case, then Archenland would've immediately taken on your proposal for a treaty," Susan reminded him. "There're a lot of people involved."

"And it's those same people who had to live under a rule that's made them jaded. It's not something that would make them turn their back son you when they know, deep down, it's not something you were to be blamed for." Caspian shook his head. "You mustn't give up, Susan. There's a reason you all are still here. We just need to find that reason."

Susan nodded.

Continued to look into Caspian's eyes, finding herself enjoying the warmth that suddenly appeared on her cheeks and flushed to her neck. Stretched all the way down to her toes. Just like the shot of adrenaline she felt went about to run into battle alongside her brothers to take back Miraz's castle. The feeling that she could do anything and would do anything to protect those that mattered to her.

So what did it mean then?

Intuitively, she knew. Had always known since the way she bashfully looked away from Caspian, the first time their eyes met. But it wasn't the time to dwell on those feelings that lay dormant inside her. That she'd wondered if it was possible for someone she may leave in the near future to have those same feelings in return. Kept herself from dwelling on it when there were more important things to worry about.

But in that moment, the only thing she could focus on was the way Caspian's hand held her chin. With the same loose strength that she held onto her bow, it dangled from her fingertips. Caspian tilted his head, moved his face closer toward her.

Susa held her breath, wondered, _hoped _about what would happen next.

Then found himself rushing her gaze to her feet, seeing Caspian's gaze shift to just behind her. He dropped his hand simultaneously. Then he stepped back and turned to face Brielle as she approached, stopping a few feet away.

"I'll leave you to your training then," Caspian said, nodding to her. "Please, enjoy your day."

Susan nodded back, watching him as he moved across the grass back toward the castle. Then she turned an upraised eye to Brielle. "You have amazing timing," she said flatly.

"Would you have preferred it to be Lucy?" Brielle replied, coming to a stop next to her friend and queen. Brielle's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You know she would've told the whole castle by this point."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Susan said. Her eyes widened. "Not that there's anything to tell."

"Right, there's nothing to tell." Brielle nodded. "If you say so."

"Bri."

"What? I didn't say anything."

Susan shook her head, ignoring Brielle's knowing smile. Then she realized why her friend had arrived. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, yes." Brielle brushed her hands down the sides of her dress, removing the dew drops that settled along the folds. Her nose wrinkled at them. Susan smiled, knowing Brielle's thoughts were encompassed by her ruined dress. "I drew your bath for you."

"You came all the way out here to tell me that?"

"I came out here to know if you've heard of the rumblings going around the castle," Brielle said. She looked away for a second. "_And _to tell you that I drew your bath."

Susan laughed quietly. She moved to Brielle's side and looped her arm through her friend's. "What is it that's going around the castle? Did a pair of servants get caught in a closet again?" She and Brielle giggled quietly at the memory. "They wouldn't look at me for weeks."

"That's because the servants were afraid of you."

"They were _not_!"

"Oh, yes, they were. They kept their heads down whenever they walked by you. Made sure not to distress you when you were eating."

"Why would the servants have been afraid of me?"

Brielle gave her a 'duh' look. "Because you were the queen. There were so many times they saw you and thought you were…too logical. Too cold for them." She shook her head. "They had many complaints. But, if one of the guys were to do the same…they'd be heralded for it."

"Yes, I guess that's the price to pay for being a girl," Susan replied with a roll of her eyes. "I must say I'm used to it. When we were home, Ed and Lu listened to Peter more than they listened to me. Even if mum put me in charge."

Brielle burst out laughing. "That's because you didn't know how to have fun, Su." Then she stopped laughing, lowering her chin. "It stopped being easy to have fun once the war started."

"If you asked Lu, I never knew how to have fun."

"Lu always did have a flair for the dramatics." The two walked back to Susan's room, where Brielle sat her down on a stool and made quick work of loosening Susan's braid to brush it out. "So…what was the thing I interrupted with you and Caspian?"

"That was nothing." Susan shook her head.

"Didn't look like nothing."

Susan looked up, bringing her hand up to rest atop of Brielle's, holding the brush still. She turned to face her friend with a fire burning in her she hadn't realized had stuck with her for most of that morning. "I was still angry over the way Queen Aria was allowing the execution to happen on the grounds. Without a just rule. I went to practice some archery so not to allow that anger to completely take me over. Caspian and I were just talking."

"Seemed to me like he wanted to do more than just talk to you," Brielle commented. She waved Susan's hand away, went back to brushing. "You should let him in, Su. It's not just the five of us anymore. There's someone out there who cares about you."

"Cares because he has to." Susan twisted her hands in her lap. Bunched up the skirts of her dress. "Peace between Narnia and Telmar will benefit him as much as it'll benefit the rest of us. Now as the King of Telmr, he understands that."

"You're really selling yourself short." Brielle finished brushing out Susan's hair and moved back to her friend's side, kneeling on the floor as she did so. "You're not just a queen, Susan. You're still a person. You had a life, an identity before you became _Queen _Susan. You had that life before."

Susan's voice turned hard before she could stop herself. "Things aren't like they were before," she said. "There's more we have to worry about. Our peace is more important to me than my feelings. Even if there are things I don't agree with, I must put my personal thoughts aside—" she broke off, seeing Brielle give her a pointed look, tilting her head aside. "Violence is a completely different entity. As you can tell with my reaction to Queen Aria."

Reaching out, Brielle grasped Susan's hands in her own. "I know Queen Aria's ideals may not be how others run their kingdoms. But whatever decisions you make, as your lady…as your _friend…_you at least you know have my full support on what you decide."

Susan squeezed Brielle's hands in her own. Leaned forward and rested her forehead against her friend's. The jewels encrusted on Brielle's headpiece pressed painfully into Susan's forehead, but she pushed the pain aside.

Focused on her friend's hands in hers and the strength she drew from it. Just as she did in battle.

* * *

"Well?" Brielle nearly jumped out of her skin, swiveling her head to the side, seeing Vincent leaning against the wall beside her the moment she left Susan's room. He eyed her carefully. "What do you think?"

"What do I think of what?" Brielle replied.

Vincent let out an impatient sigh.

Brielle mimicked it with one of her own, then got into Vincent's face. "Don't question me," she hissed at him. He simply watched her, eyes following her every move. "I already told you I had an inside for Archenland and I've proved that. It's going to take time and be less suspicious than them all dropping dead at once." She glanced toward Susan's door then looked away, unable to bear it for more than a second.

Vincent's lips pursed. "We don't have much time—"

"—Then I suggest you stop delaying me."

Brielle left him with that. Going to her room, she passed by multiple servants who looked at her, then looked away, whispering among themselves. Each time she noticed, the corners of her lips turned up even further until she was positively beaming.

Finally reaching her room, Brielle closed the door behind her, humming a tune. She slid her wand out of her boot and waved it around. Within seconds, the blankets on her bed lifted, spun, and replaced themselves on her bed, tucked in neatly. She waved her wand once more and her journal shot out from beneath her hiding place behind the bed and shot across the room to where she caught it in her hand.

With a flick of her wrist, she opened her book and tapped the tip of her wand against it. Her wand shifted upright and started to shift frantically across the page. Taking down Brielle's thoughts as it did so.

"Peter's out of the way, off to determine the reconstruction of Cair Paravel," she noted out loud. "And King Nain and Queen Aria are already starting to question his place of rule. If Silas and Vincent have held up their end of things, it shouldn't be long until Archenland completely splits from Narnia. We just have to wait for word back from the Calormens."

Brielle stopped writing and closed her journal once more. She tossed it onto her desk and walked to the mirror that sat in the corner of her room. She studied her expression, tapping her wand against her cheek. Then pressed the tip of the wand against the hard glass tapped once, then stepped back.

The glass rippled and warped until her image distorted, replaced by an image of a wolf lying curled up on the ground. Its tail swished over his nose, as if tickling it awake. Then it lifted his head and turned toward Brielle, as if hearing his name called. He pushed himself up onto his front legs, tail continuing to swish quietly, almost puppylike, waiting for its master to start playing.

Brielle reached out and pressed her fingertips against the glass, where she would've pressed her fingertip against the wolf's nose. Instead of the cold, slightly damp texture of a wolf's nose, she only felt glass, watching as the image faded away. Slipping through her fingers.

Just like Peter's life in her hands, when the time finally came.

* * *

**A/N: **Took me a bit longer than I planned to update, but at least we got one. It brought in a little bit with Susan's and Brielle's relationship within it as well. Ii hope you guys enjoyed.

Please let me know what you think!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	17. Chapter 16: Lucy

**Chapter Sixteen: **Lucy

* * *

Lucy was pretty sure she was the only one who was taking her fortune by Dulcea seriously. Not just because it was something exciting to look forward to as they waited for the results of King Nain's and Queen Aria's thoughts on the treaty proposal. But because she seemed to be the only one who noticed that there was something they were still in Narnia for and they needed to figure out what it was.

Peter, Susan, and Edmund seemed to think it was that they needed to restore peace in Narnia, but Lucy wasn't so sure. She wasn't as naïve as she had been, as when she first entered Narnia and wanted nothing more than to prove to her sibling that it was, in fact, real, and that creatures like Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers could be friends.

Now those friends were gone, they'd created peace between Narnia and Telmar and they were _still _in Narnia. And it was the thing that Lucy was trying to prove wasn't the point of them being there. Telmar wasn't the trouble they were trying to clear up, it wasn't their purpose.

And the sooner they figured it out, the better.

_There's a war coming, _Lucy thought as she strolled the grounds of Anvard, hands lightly perched on the vial and cordial strapped to her waist. _And we don't know where it's coming from. Telmar's just been taken down…but how many other places have been affected by our lack of presence. We were gone for a long time…_She stepped through the walls of the courtyard and headed across the sprawling grounds of the castle.

Not that it was their choice.

They were happy, at first. The thrill of being back home so that they could explain to Professor Kirke what had gone on. (Though they were hesitant to tell him the truth, he gently goaded them into and listened to their story all with a bright smile and a twinkle in his eye). Then they continued into the night, she and Susan telling the boys about what'd happened with Aslan and the Stone Table and how, without them, they'd never have been able to win and live their lives in Narnia, and Peter and Edmund talking about the battle and how they'd been prepared for it.

Slowly but surely, as the days passed, depression set in. They tried to get back into Narnia the next day. Hoping that they'd be able to, at least, go back and forth through the wardrobe to transport to the land they loved so much. But found their hands pressing firmly into the back of the wardrobe, unable to make it move.

No worries, they'd tried again tomorrow.

And they did, over and over.

Until it became evident, until Susan, being the logical one, couldn't hold back any further and had to tell the others, "I don't think we're meant to go back." Lucy and Edmund had denied it while Peter agreed with Susan. Of course he had, he was the oldest, it made the most sense that they'd band together on that decision. It took a few more days before Lucy, begrudgingly, took it as fact.

That wasn't the most depressing part, not by a long shot. The most depressing part was when they started to turn on each other. When they started to accuse each other for being at fault that they couldn't go back to Narnia. Whose idea was it to chase after the White Stag? Well, whose idea was it to go riding in the first place? Who was the one who decided to explore the area around the light post? Who was the one who decided it was even a good idea to go out that day at all? Who was the one who pushed through the trees and the coats first?

And on and on.

They were angry with each other for a long while, much longer than they'd ever squabbled before. Being in Narnia had made it easier for them to band together and come to decisions quicker than ever before. Where she and Edmund used to defer things to Peter and Susan—whether it was by their choice or not—they had grown into their roles of being Kings and Queens of Narnia and had their own 3areas of expertise and judgement. But the reality of losing something they held so dear made it so that they couldn't trust each other.

Then there were the other little things, the side-effects they hadn't known to think of; things they learned in Narnia were slowly starting to fade away. Nothing like learning battle strategies and how closely the boys listened to the radio to determine what was going on with the war, but little things. Lucy lost her ability to swim. She hadn't known before going to Narnia, had been given enough lessons from the Beavers to know how to keep herself afloat before enjoying a trip to the beach to swim as much as she could, then, back in the countryside, she floundered while trying to go across the pond.

Susan's archery and aim weren't as good as it had been before. Edmund didn't have the same respect in his opinion on things, Peter wasn't taken seriously as a voice of authority. Brielle had all but withdrawn into herself, branching away from the Pevensies when they'd returned. It all affected them in different ways despite how much they tried to prove they'd moved on and Narnia was simply something they had fun with while it lasted.

They pushed it to the back of their minds, growing accustomed to their old-new life, their new surroundings, their new school. And were prepared to do it all over again with another year at a boarding school when they were pulled back to Narnia all over again.

Only to be slapped in the face with the truth, that Narnia wasn't what it used to be and never would be again. Cair Paravel was in ruins, Telmarines had taken over the land they once knew, the magical creatures, their friends, had been nearly wiped out, there was nothing they were used to that way still there other than their belief in Aslan.

And yet, something was keeping them there.

"If only Aslan would show himself again," Lucy murmured, still traversing through Anvard's grounds. "We'd be able to ask him some more questions." She stopped at the edge of the forest that protected the trail leading out to…where she wasn't sure and looked at the trees. Tilting her head aside, she allowed her gaze to sweep over the trees that gently swayed in the wind.

Were they, simply, trees or were they dormant dryads? She'd thought they'd been taken out with the magical creatures that had slowly evolved and became extinct. But Aslan had managed to bring them forth once more, to help taking down Miraz when times were dire.

Maybe they could do the same again.

Stepping forward, Lucy reached out and placed her hand flat against the bark on the tree. It scratched her palm, tickling her skin while she rubbed her hand up and down it. It made her giggle a little, but sadness filled her heart. She couldn't feel anything other than the bark, couldn't get a _sense _of what was within the tree. Narnia was a magical place with magical creatures and, sometimes, she felt she had a better connection to it than the others.

_Not better, _she scolded herself. _Different. _Sometimes, she swore, she could literally _feel _Narnia. Not just the pinching pull of being brought into Narnia when the time was right, not the pull of magic, but the true essence of Narnia. Knowing how it felt when it was strong and powerful, feeling when it was weak and struggling.

The Golden Age and the struggles they were currently facing.

"Don't worry," Lucy whispered, continuing to stroke the tree. Desperately hoping to feel some sort of life inside. "We'll fix things. We'll bring Narnia back to the way it once was. We have to."

_"Dearest Lucy," Dulcea said, making the youngest Pevensie to sit up straight, eyes shining with excitement. "As the youngest, you are more than what you appear to be. Others want to be wary of coming across you." Lucy's smile widened. Dulcea's eyebrows twitched. "I see moments of great decision falling upon your shoulders. Decisions that'll be felt for years to come, that will only end once your wise nature is realized. You're strong, and that strength shall be felt for centuries."_

Lucy dropped her hand from the tree, gasping quietly when a sudden, cool wind blew, making the tree and its branches rapidly shake back and forth. As if the tree was shivering. It'd look that way to her siblings and Brielle, she knew. But to Lucy, it was something else.

A message.

Something was coming; something big.

She could feel it.

* * *

**A/N: **And now a tiny look into Lucy. This story is majorly from Brielle's POV, and also has a good amount of Peter's, while the others' POVs aren't shown as much, it'll still come in from time to time. And Lucy is fun to write because of her never-ending belief of things and her being the youngest of the Pevensies. She's always had a bit of a sixth sense of things for Narnia and it was fun to explore.

So, I've always liked the idea that Lucy may have some sort of magical/spiritual connection with Narnia and wanted to show some more of it here as well as through the rest of the story! Please let me know what you think!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	18. Chapter 17: Connection

**Chapter Seventeen: **Connections

* * *

There was nothing short of fanfare when Peter arrived back at Anvard. A dark sort of fanfare, a dark cloud had settled over what used to be an otherwise, peaceful kingdom. Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and Caspian knew something had happened the second the sounds of the horses' hooves rattling against the cobblestone that lined the path leading up to the castle. It wasn't the usual, plodding pace of the horses and the carriage that was slowly coming to a stop, not wanting to jostle the precious and royal cargo inside.

The frantic beating of the cobblestone bounced off the castle walls, audible from inside the great hallway. It was then overcome by the sound of frantic shouting, of the knights and servants that hurried to calm the horses and the shouts of, "The king is injured!"

Brielle had been getting Susan and Lucy ready for the day, overseeing the servants drawing a bath for the two—all the while sitting on Susan's bed, taking turns of brushing their hair as they gossiped quietly when they heard the commotion coming from the courtyard. Lucy immediately frowned and slid off the bed, hurrying to the window. She leaned out of it, her reddish-brown hair flying around from the wind—a foreboding wind?—that blew outside. She leaned back and turned to her sister and friend, murmuring, "I knew it," under her breath.

Susan lifted her head and looked to her sister curiously. "Knew what?" She asked slowly.

"Can't you feel it?" Lucy asked. Susan and Brielle exchanged glances, shaking their heads. "Can't you feel this sort of…darkness over everything?" Again, she got blank stares in reply, making Lucy sigh quietly. "I guess I'm the only one taking this seriously."

"Taking what seriously, Lu?" Susan sounded, almost, annoyed. As if she was ready for a ludicrous explanation of something, or the pleading to play a game of some sort.

"Our predictions!"

Even Brielle looked at Lucy as if she were crazy. "Oh, you didn't think that was serious, did you?" She shook her head, brushing her hair back from her face. "That was just a game. We were at a carnival." She shook her head and picked up a brush, running it through Susan's hair once more. She gritted her teeth, yanking the brush through a kink in Susan's hair, jerking her head to the side. Susan whipped around and glared at her, making Brielle smile sweetly in response. "Dulcea can't really predict the future."

"Bri," Lucy said patiently. Almost as if talking to a child. "This is Narnia, we've seen some of the strangest things that not anyone in our old life would ever believe. And you don't believe Dulcea can tell the future?"

Brielle shrugged. Lucy had a point.

When Brielle had returned to her home, it surprised her to know that almost not time had passed between her falling through her bathtub and washing up on the beach. Surprised her even more when she'd decided to take the time when the others went on their search of the White Stag to take the time to take a swim on the beach.

Imagine her surprise when she went from being an older woman to breaking the surface and being reverted to her teen self, with her mother pounding on the bathroom door, yelling at her to turn off the bath water as it rolled over the rim and spilled to the floor. Almost as if everything had been a dream and she was only waking up once more.

The loss hadn't hit her immediately, only rearing its head a few days later when she found herself suddenly feeling a strong pang in her chest that reduced her to gut wrenching sobs. Not only for her lost life, but for her lost friends. They were living somewhere in the countryside; they'd explained that much to her as they traversed through Narnia within their first few days there.

How was she supposed to be able to find them again? Especially with what they'd later know as 'the Blitz' was going on. Communication was almost non-existent and being ripped away from what felt like home—twice—was more than she could bare. But she pushed it aside, didn't bring it up to anyone, had her memories of her time in Narnia…until the next year when she went to the train station to catch a train to her boarding school and suddenly saw Susan across the street, trying to keep her attention away from a boy who clearly was smitten with her.

"I'm not saying I don't believe it," Susan said slowly, carefully. She knew what would happen if she questioned Lucy's feelings of Narnia and the 'magic' that surrounded it. Last time, Edmund had really been proven wrong, and she didn't want to have the same egg on her face. "I'm just saying that there's always an explanation for something."

"Then how do you explain Narnia?" Lucy asked pointedly.

Susan paused, parting her lips for a moment. Then she shook her head, making Lucy's lips draw back into what was a cross between a smirk and a smile. Narnia was indescribable, was unable to be reasoned. Brielle could only imagine what Susan's teachers would've thought had she gone back to her school and tried to explain the existence of another world that had no explanation to how it existed. Especially when Susan was always so logical.

"Do you hear that?" Lucy then demanded, gesturing toward the sounds coming from the courtyard. She was across the room and to the door in a flash. "Something's happened."

Brielle's heart hammered in her chest so hard she thought Susan and Lucy could hear it. But neither of them turned her way. Instead, she pulled up the skirts of her dress and followed Susan and Lucy as they headed toward the front gate. They ran into Edmund and Caspian on the way.

"What's going on?" Edmund asked, brown eyes wide at the commotion that was going on, servants rushing back and forth as the front doors were opened wide, allowing a draft in. Then he looked out toward the carriage that was arriving. "That's Peter's carriage!"

Caspian raced forward, pushing his way through to the front along with the rest of the Pevensies. Brielle hung back, not just out of respect for the royals, but so that she could watch from afar. She chewed her lower lip, watching as the servants and knights, brought the carriage to a stop, comforting the horses whose eyes were wide, the whites only showing.

Lucy reached out and rubbed the sides of the horses while Caspian and Edmund went to the side of the carriage and wrenched the door open. All at once, Peter was carefully lifted and taken out of the carriage with the Archenland knights that had gone with him to Cair Paravel's restoration.

Across the courtyard, Brielle locked eyes with Silas as he stood nearby the carriage, watching closely, his hands placed behind his back. It wouldn't be too strange if he were to give counsel to King Nain afterwards. If there was anyone waiting by the carriage or within the castle walls that were ready to stage a coup, it was important that the royals stayed inside.

"Peter!" Susan gasped, seeing her brother's head loll back as he was hefted into the knight's arms. She turned a steely gaze to those that were the knight's guards. "What happened to him?" She demanded. "There's more than enough men here to have ensured that he stayed protected while going to back to Cair Paravel! The restoration project is commonly known around Narnia, you should've known there was a chance for someone to take advantage."

"That is something we took into consideration, your highness," Silas said calmly. He reached up, wrapping a hand around the reins of the horse nearest to him. His ruby ring glinted in the sunlight. A light 'caw' in the distance alerted Brielle to Merek's presence nearby. She searched the sky for the familiar, before drawing her attention back to Peter as he was bundled up and rushed into the castle, Lucy following after him. "And we were led to believe it was safe."

"What happened?" Caspian asked.

Silas turned his attention to the Telmarine king. "Claormens, sir," he said, putting on a concerned expression, clasping his hands behind his back. "We got Peter to Cair Paravel in a good amount of time. There were magical creatures there, some that he must have recognized, leading the process."

"Which magical creatures?"

"Centaurs."

"It must have been Glenstrom," Edmund realized. "He and Windmane made sure to stay back and oversee the building of Cair Paravel. To ensure that things were moving smoothly, in return for having had saved Narnia from the Telamr rule."

Susan shook her head fretfully. Brielle walked down the steps, being careful and sure of each placement of her feet. Her legs shook as hard as her heartbeat, and she reached out to place her had on Susan's shoulder as a form of comfort and to keep herself steady.

"King Peter was warned about the dangers of Narnia being, essentially defenseless," Silas continued. "Especially after the loss within Miraz's castle, but he insisted he was fine to look around the construction site on his own. By the time we heard the commotion that was going on, we were unable to help him. The perpetrators had run off, but Peter was at least conscious enough to let us know it was the Calormens that had attacked him. He's been in and out of consciousness since."

"Why was there no one who was able to administer any sort of aid to him?" Susan demanded. She folded her arms, blue eyes boring into Silas's with noting more than contempt. "I don't believe that friends we have in Narnia would have let him leave in the condition that he is." She continued before Silas could continue. "If the Calormens truly were behind this, ten it was something that they were aware of, of Peter's return and knowledge that he'd be by himself."

Silas paused, waiting for Susan to say more. He parted his lips, taking in a shallow breath when he was sure she'd finished speaking. "Well, we do have a theory as to how that was possible," Silas said. His eyes, along with everyone else's, shifted over to Caspian.

Caspian looked back at him, then to the others, then back to Silas. His eyes widened in surprise. He took a step back, as if out of the proverbial line of fire, and shook his head. "You know I have nothing to do with this!" He hissed. "I don't have Calormene allies."

"It is common knowledge that Telmar and Calormen are allied together and have been for centuries," Silas continued. He gave a noncommittal shrug, as if the conversation was beneath him. Or, as Brielle noted, that he had done his duty and didn't need to be around much longer. Just needed to blend back into the shadows. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to ensure that King Nain and Queen Aria have heard of what's happened."

His words hung in the air as the crowd in the courtyard dispersed. Caspian shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. "I wouldn't do this," he hissed. "I would never betray Peter like that. Not after what he's done, what he's sacrificed to aid my people. And to ensure that Narnia was brought back to the splendor it once was."

"That's alright, Caspian," Edmund reassured him. "We don't think you've done anything."

"It doesn't matter what we think, Ed," Brielle said quietly. "If everyone else feels this way…if word gets out about what's happened to Peter…they may think your reign is weak." Edmund turned a glare her way. "I'm on your side, Ed. I'm simply saying what is possibly going through the minds of those who are waiting to see how Narnia will come back with your presence. We've only just returned to Narnia, being here in Anvard has proven that our disappearance has made it difficult to trust anyone. If Telmar and Calormen had an alliance…maybe Miraz had this planned as a failsafe."

"My uncle has never been that cunning," Caspian denied. His eyebrows continued to pinch together, a vein in his neck starting to throb at the realization of the betrayal resting upon his shoulders. "He was very shortsighted in what he wanted. Came up with plans based on emotion, he would not have thought of this himself." He shook his head. "But coming up with a way to ensure my inability to be king…I may be taken in for treason!"

"That's not going to happen," Susan said firmly. She reached out and grasped Caspian's hand firmly in hers. "We'll get to the bottom of what's happened and we'll figure out how to move forward. But right now, we need to figure out what's going to happen with Peter. And if Cair Paravel and our allies there have been hurt."

"I can speak to Silas," Brielle suggested. "And see if there's anything that he's forgotten to tell us." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I can only hope that Peter makes a full recovery." Susan nodded, a move that allowed Brielle to do her duties.

Brielle turned on her heel and headed across the courtyard, her smile widening with each step.

* * *

The last sliver of the sun had just dipped below the horizon line when Brielle went into the infirmary to check on Peter. Lucy had gotten to him in enough time so that the fire-flower juice from her cordial healed any and all of the wounds that he'd sustained, increasing the healing process that the knights had started, having bandaged him up the best they could upon finding him.

Brielle waited as the nursemaids briefed her on what had been done to ensure his comfort. The same that had been told to all the Pevensies and Caspian when they'd checked in on Peter as well. There wasn't much time before a counsel was to be called with King Nain and Queen Aria, she already heard the whispers and the rumbles of the servants that scurried by and tried to get their work done, no doubt to eavesdrop on the conversation.

It was the biggest thing to happen in Anvard in a very long time. She understood why they'd wanted to get the gossip about everything, she remembered doing the same with all the other ladies were being trained in their duties beneath Queen Aria when she spent time in Anvard, before being sent back to Narnia. Remembered giggling with the servants in Cair Paravel as she gave them their duties for the day. It was harmless, but still carried a lot of weight in something big were to get to the wrong ears.

She'd seen enough backstabbing and betrayal among those that tried to move their way up in the 'hierarchy' of those around the castle with the information they learned.

Nevertheless, Brielle listened quietly, ignoring their eagerness to leave before moving to the chair that had been brought up to his bedside. Peter had been in and out of consciousness during the day, only able to give a few moments of lucidness to speak to his brother and sisters. It was worrying, Susan admitted once she'd left her brother's side. He may have been hurt worse than anyone previously thought, might have a minor concussion.

Either way it worked well for Brielle. She looked at the darkness rapidly deepening outside the widow and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath when she felt her powers start to increase. Felt her strength returning, more than it would during the day. In the sunlight, she could do some of the more mundane, easy incantations and spells, but night was when she truly shined. Was when she could send out more of her powerful spells and magic tricks. Just as Jadis thrived in winter, ice, and snow, she thrived in the darkness of the night.

So much so, that Brielle didn't need to use her wand to use her projection spell. She simply had to reach her fingers up to her amber broach, taking on the power that stemmed from it, feeling the familiar jolt of magic move through her fingertips. She reached out, hovering her hand over Peter's forehead. His eyelashes fluttered, as if she touched him, but his eyes, otherwise, stayed closed.

Brielle waved her hand over his forehead once, twice, three times, murmuring the familiar spell that's grown to be her best executed. And, in her mind's eyes, she was transported to what Peter was seeing, to the dream—or nightmare—that was paying his head. If she wanted, she could project terrifying images and memories into his dreams to torture him and break him mentally. (Something she'd tried and deemed the results a failure, when traversing to Anvard).

Instead, she decided to watch, to see what he was seeing…

_Peter wasn't sure if the sound he let out from his mouth was a grunt of pain or a sigh of relief. Both–probably–filled his veins as he lowered himself to a sitting position, just seconds before his legs gave way entirely. He full weight crashed him onto the ledge that overlooked the courtyard of the Telmarine castle, where the party grew boisterously as the night went on._

_Peter smiled to himself, watching Caspian whirl across the cobblestones, holding onto Lucy's hands. They moved in a light dance to the lively music playing below. Or, as Peter realized with amusement, Caspian followed Lucy's movements as she dictated the direction of their dance. Nevertheless, they appeared to be having fun. Caspian had proven his worth, and if Lucy were able to allow herself that vulnerability, then he couldn't be entirely bad. (Though Lucy always seemed able to charm the socks off of anyone she came across, even as a newborn)._

_Edmund sat happily at the head of the feasting table, cheersing with the centaurs that sat–stood?–around him, equally enjoying the feast. Susan was nearby, sitting carefully on the ground with a wide circle of Telmarine children around her, listening to every word of whatever story she was telling, smiling with a mature-like sincerity when they would react at the right parts. If he were being honest, the true victims of the war were the Telmarine children; those that lost their parents to something that wouldn't be explained to them until later, those that didn't understand the war, those that were used as pawns in Miraz's plans. And they were able to be treated like children within Susan's presence._

_Peter lifted his gaze to look at the sky. At the stars that twinkled above, nestled against the backdrop of the moon that shone proudly above them, bringing extra light to the courtyard. The night was crisp, just in-between warm and cool, a perfect fit for the light tunic that'd been festooned upon him in rich navy colors once Caspian declared the night for celebration with the Pevensies' immediate approval. The lights around the courtyard, around the castle was especially bright to the young king. Just as it should've been for a celebration. Miraz was defeated, Narnia was safe. _

_Everything was the way it should be._

_And yet, there was enough wrong that Peter couldn't quite enjoy himself. He watched the party with a certain detachment that he'd grown used to, similar to how he saw things before returning to Narnia. It seemed to be a century ago, having gotten into so many fights with other boys in his school, unable to stomach the disrespect coming his way. (He was a king for Aslan's sake!) Watched as his peers went about their lives so...frivolously, with their noses so far in the air for anything different that they could've drowned if it rained. Didn't think much about others' lives unless it directly impacted them._

_He wasn't part of that world anymore, probably could never be again. Just as he'd never truly be a King again with Caspian's presence..._

_Peter heard footsteps, light and airy, coming up behind him and intuitively knew who it was. Edmund dragged his feet in a way that made their mother consistently fuss over the patching of his shoes and echoed his role in Narnia of following the decisions of the King; not quick to make them of his own volition. Lucy's footsteps were quick, filled with the enthusiasm and enjoyment she had for life, ready to get to the next thing she could fixate on. Susan's were almost a dance; a musicality that mixed her youthfulness and maturity in a combination no one else could follow. And Caspian's were equally as confident as they were insecure; getting used to his new role as king, as leader of his people._

_Brielle's footsteps were light and airy; an example of the way she flittered from person to person, a social butterfly who enjoyed everything life had to offer in meeting new people and learning new things…and finding new ways to annoy him._

_But he was less than annoyed when he looked up as Brielle brushed aside the skirts of her pale cream dress, of which matched perfectly with her headdress, and lowered herself to her knees beside him. A sharp contrast to the chainmail, battle armor, and determined scowl she wore within the battle with Miraz and the Telmarine army. _

_Brielle looked at him for a moment, cautious curiosity coming to her face, then said with a small smile, "You look like we just lost the war, my liege."_

_Peter sighed. "We almost did." He frowned, eyes narrowing for a second, then corrected himself. "I almost did." It wasn't anyone else's fault what'd happened. It was his, all alone. He'd abused the power he had over his followers, bullied them, in a way, into following his lead so that he could...what? Prove to Caspian he was the one to rule Narnia? Peter lowered his head, shaking it back and forth so that his fringe shifted on the light breeze that blew through the courtyard. "We lost so many today, and for what?"_

_"For Narnia," Brielle reminded him. "For the Telmarines who had no choice but to follow Miraz and his men. For those who wanted peace." She chuckled, tucking loose brown hair behind her ear. "And, I suppose, to not die." As if sensing the miscalculated landing of her joke, she blinked rapidly. But couldn't keep the tiny grin from her face._

_Peter chuckled humorlessly. He didn't like to think about things like that too often; where he brought in the stressors of his thoughts as a king into…into what? It was too much for him to hide away with the confidence he worked to bring into his role as the king. _

_Former King? _

_Was he still considered a King of Narnia anymore?_

_The Son of Adam that turned into the High King upon defeating the White Witch and releasing Narnia from its hundred-year winter storm?_

_Maybe it was that loss that was hitting him harder than he'd expected. The loss of a title. After such a short time of having it. Most of the time being when he was back in the 'real world'. His former life wasn't a part of him anymore, as much as he thought of his parents and the war that brewed there. But he couldn't let his heart go like that and he didn't want to bring it up to her._

_She didn't expect him to be perfect, didn't think he was. Teased and taunted him about it at almost every turn. And in the moment between breaths that was a comfort. Still he wouldn't have expected what came next._

_Exhaustion came over him quicker than he'd anticipated. Maybe it was finally slowing down, finally off his feet after long days of battle and conflict. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush petering out, letting everything else run him over. Maybe it was speaking, out loud, of the worries that filled his head. But Peter's head lolled, his vision swam, he worked hard not to yawn, eyes sliding shut._

_He hadn't realized he was moving until he rocked forward, shaking his head. His eyes fluttered, working to stay open. Brielle surprised him, grabbing his arm in a gentle grasp to move him over and down, down, down until his head rested on her lap, her skirts creating the perfect pillow for his weary head._

_Despite how they were often in each other's space while in battle (while sparring or in actual battle), taunting each other, working to cut each other down when in the moments they could show her closeness to the Pevensies, the moment was strange and…nice all on its own. Peter looked out at the city through half-lidded eyes, barely breathing as he felt her hand combing through his hair._

_He relaxed._

_A full body sigh escaped him; his eyes nearly closed. One breath, two breaths, nearly asleep._

_After some time, her fingers stopped, he didn't mind. Didn't move. She was here with him and all the worries and disappointments of the day had melted away. _

Hmm. Brielle brought her hand back to her lap, her eyebrows coming together. That was interesting. Why was he thinking of that memory?

She remembered that day, sort of. Had celebrated as hard as the rest of the Pevensies, Caspian, and the magical creatures had. She'd had a nasty hangover the next day, after having had drunk too much wine and not eaten nearly enough of the feast that was given one. (On one hand, she was fearful of losing her fingers from Edmund's appetite and on the other being unsure of the sorts of foods that Telmarines ate. Not that it made much of a difference, they hadn't eaten much between discussing war tactics and being out in the field).

She'd spent most of the night in the Telmar castle giggling and gossiping with Lucy and Susan, delirious over the excitement of the war being over, of seeing Aslan once more, of knowing it was a start to the peace they'd longed for. Hadn't thought too much of the celebration in general. Once Susan and Lucy had dropped off to sleep, Brielle spent more time ensuring she hadn't used too much of her magic while in the battle. Sword fighting was exhausting, and she had to continue to give herself more energy each time she started to slow down, healed herself whenever a wound appeared. There were even times where she outright used blasts of magic…but had made sure the Pevensies and Caspian weren't around to see it.

It hadn't been the right time to reveal herself yet, there was a plan to follow. And she followed it well. There was no room for error. Which was also why she hadn't had decided to give herself much time to think about all the loss they'd faced within that battle, within their first foray into Narnia and how she might've been stronger if…

Brielle clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, shifted in her seat to get more comfortable. With each movement, rocking to get settled, Brielle felt her wand scratch against her leg. Space formed in her boot, allowing her wand to roll around. Brielle tucked her hair behind her ears and gazed down at Peter's face. Expected to see heavy bruising around his eyes, some visible lasting trauma from the Calormenes attacking him and was surprised…_relieved_ to see it wasn't the case.

His eyes were shut, eyelashes gently fluttering against his cheeks as he tried to rise. Or maybe he was stuck in a bad dream, bad memories that she now wasn't privy to, having broken the tether that connected them. It wasn't one she was causing that time, something in her couldn't bear to disrupt his slumber any more than it already was. And while it appeared, he slept fitfully, there seemed to be a hint of a smile on his lips.

One that Brielle found herself mimicking. She reached up, placing her hand on his hair, stroking it softly. The blonde strands of hair slid through her fingers then fell back in place. Her hand drifted slowly from his hair to his cheek, fingertips smoothing down the skin to his jaw then back up to repeat her movement. Her fingertips twitched, itching to reach for her wand, to end everything there.

But found herself unable to do so. Instead, she continued to gently stoke his cheek and watch and listen. Finally, she noticed Peter's eyes flutter even more before finally opening. Brielle brought her hand back to her lap. "Peter?"

"I think that's my name," He joked quietly. He took in a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "What…?" He trailed off, unsure of how to ask.

Brielle quickly figured out. "It's only been a few days since you left," she said. Then added bluntly, "You look like crap."

Peter rolled his eyes, making her smile. "Thanks for that," he mumbled. Then his eyebrows furrowed. "I _feel _like crap."

"I didn't mean…" She trailed off, unsure of how to apologize. If she even wanted to, never having had apologized for a teasing comment to him before. It'd change things if she started now…

"I know what you meant."

"Are you okay?"

"If you call waking up randomly in the infirmary, not really knowing what happened, then I reckon I'm pretty good." He gave a small smile.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He watched her for a long moment. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long."

"Why?"

"Why would I leave?"

Peter smiled ad settled back into his pillows.

Brielle smiled back.

* * *

**A/N: **Took me a bit longer to get this chapter up, but I've had a lot going on. Of course COVID has managed to zap some of my motivation, but there's also the fact that I've suddenly gone back into work (not open to the public yet) and it's a lot of work we have to get done between now and when we open the store again.

Anywho, I _really _loved writing this chapter and I hope you all loved it as well! I'll update again soon!

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


	19. Chapter 18: A Look Into The Past III

**Chapter Eighteen: **A Look Into The Past III (aka Maugrim)

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Lucy asked. Her head lolled back and forth, reddish-brown fringe shaking with each step. Her heels dragged against the slushiness of the snow. "I'm tired." She slowed to a stop and fell to her knees, dropping her hands to her lap to look up at her siblings and friends. "Can we just sleep here?"

Peter looked at her incredulously. "We can't stop here, Lu," he said, voice gentle. A contrast to the expression on his face. "We're out in the open. We have to get somewhere safe so that the Witch doesn't catch up to us."

But Lucy stuck out her lower lip, twisting the hem of her dress in her hands as she continued to look up at her eldest brother. Brielle smiled gently, suddenly reminded of the times she'd spent with her father, often using her 'puppy dog face' to get her way when he tried to contradict her or tell her 'no'.

"Lu, don't start…"

"We probably should wait," Brielle spoke up. She turned her gaze to the sky, noting the stars that continued to dot the skyline was different compared to the ones back in England. Brighter, somehow. More…lively. "The Witch isn't going to follow us at night? She'll just send her wolf pack after us again. She wouldn't come herself."

"We don't know that," Peter insisted.

Brielle lifted an eyebrow. "Witches have to sleep, too." The wind blew around them and she hugged her jacket closer to her. "Besides, these jackets aren't going to keep us warm much longer," Brielle added. "The more we subject ourselves to the cold—"

"—They're fur jackets," Peter reminded her. "They're going to keep us warm as long as we have them on. We have to keep going!"

"And we'll walk straight to our deaths if we do!" Brielle remarked. She held up her arm. "These furs aren't real. They're synthetic. For aesthetic purposes." She waited for Peter to notice she was speaking the truth. But he simply pressed his lips together stubbornly. "The small amount of warmth is coming from the heavier fabrics, the down inside, the heaviness of it. The fur isn't doing anything." She folded her arms once more. "We need to make a fire, now, or the temperature drop from this winter—however much longer it'll last—will freeze us to death before we can blink. And I don't know about you,"—Brielle flipped her hair over her shoulder—"But I don't really think a 'creamy white complexion' of freezing to death is a good look for me or you."

Peter shook his head and moved to his sister's side, pulling Lucy's jacket tighter around her shoulder. An unspoken sign he at least had taken in a little bit of what she'd been saying. Stubbornness, Brielle realized, was one of his strong suits.

Nevertheless, she wondered why she was following them so closely, listening to everything he was saying and suggesting, as they ran around Narnia. Trying to evade this Witch that…she'd never seen. The idea of being torn to shreds by wolf teeth wasn't exciting but…she also didn't know what to do if she didn't listen to them.

Where she'd go, how she'd get back home…

If there even was a home to get to. They were in a different world, a different earth, probably on a different planet if it were even possible. She barely paid attention to the ramblings of her nerdier classmates who tried to talk about the possibilities of different dimensions.

But she should've paid attention.

What else did it mean to end up in a world filled with talking creatures, witches who were trying to hunt them down to keep a winter going, Santa Claus….

_That's it, _Brielle realized. _I drowned in my bathtub. I didn't end up on a beach in another world. I drowned and I'm hallucinating._

_Whap!_

Brielle shrieked, feeling something cool and wet and mushy strike her in the face. Gasping at the sudden, sharp sting of cold, she looked up to see Peter standing over her, brushing snow on the side of his trousers from when he'd playfully tossed some snow at her. "Hey space cadet, are you going to just sit there or help us build a fire?" He was then smacked in the side of the face with a handful of snow from Susan.

"Grow up, Peter," she said while Lucy giggled quietly, hugging her coat closer to herself. Susan went to Brielle and grasped her hands, hauling her to her feet. "Come on, Brielle, let's go find some firewood."

"And how are we supposed to light it?" Peter grumbled.

Brielle shrugged and gestured toward Lucy, "Maybe the stuff in her fire flower potion is flammable. I'm sure all that hot air you've been spewing would set it alight in no time." Peter made a face back at her and took Lucy's hand to lead them off in the other direction. The beavers looked back and forth between them before running in a third direction, moving to collect their own wood and food.

"I'm sorry about Peter," Susan apologized as they walked along, hugging their jackets closer to them as they walked. "He can be really…" She shook her head. "He just tries hard to…." She let out a long breath. "Things haven't been the same since dad left. He and Ed worked hard to try and keep things the same. Or, maybe mum pushed that on them. On us…" She tucked her hair behind her ears. "It's all very hard."

"You had to grow up fast, huh?" Brielle asked her. She tilted her head, back in the direction of Peter and Lucy. "You have to take care of your brothers and sister?" Her nose wrinkled when Susan nodded. "How old are you?" Susan told her, Brielle's eyebrows flying up. "You're younger than Peter, I reckon?" She shrugged and gave a wry smile. "I thought you would've been the older one."

"That's what a lot of people say," Susan said with a laugh. She stooped to pick up a log hidden like a bump beneath the dusty snow. The snow slushes off, dripping back to the ground in chunks. The air was getting warmer and colder, the winter fading, but still holding its temperature due to the darkening night. "I guess I'm just more sensible."

"Sensible." Brielle chuckled to herself. "That's what my professors always told me; that I needed to be more sensible. To stop caring so much about my friends and parties…" She then knelt to grab a fallen log, easily hefting it into her hands. "But I still got good grades, so what did they know?"

Susan laughed lightly. "Maybe I should've been more like you, my professors always said I needed to relax a little. To not worry about my grades so much. About what I was learning…"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to learn. It's just…not the _only _thing life is about. There's friends, and parties, and the new fashions…" Brielle sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm missing my big shopping trip. My mates and I were going to take all the allowance we'd gathered for the last six months and have a right rager in the shoppes downtown and then have a clothes swap later."

"Yeah, I guess the war has really changed things for everyone," Susan said kindly. "I think the hardest part was having to give up hanging out with my mates. It wasn't safe to be out so late at night with the threats of a bombing. And I miss the sweets, we had to ration our chocolate." She laughed to herself. "You should've seen Ed's face when he heard…" her laughter cut short, fading away as her pillowly lips pressed together.

Brielle tapped her fingertips against the log in her hands. "Tell me about your brother," she prompted. "You all have been saying you're looking for him. That the witch has him…what's happened?" She watched as Susan took in a deep breath.

"Ed's…" Susan trailed off, working to find the right words. The two continued to move along, picking up firewood as they went. "Ed's been troubled since our father went to the war. I think he was the most affected by his having to leave. Before…he never left our father's side. And it didn't help that he started at a new school recently." Her eyes flickered toward Brielle when she added, "A boarding school."

"Ah."

"Things haven't been easy for him. He lashes out a lot, constantly teases and pokes fun at Lu…he likes to have attention, and to be right, but doesn't really know how to go about it. So he pokes fun at her. Then Peter tries to protect her and then that makes things hard between him and Peter, because as much as Ed doesn't like to admit it, he looks up to Pete. And Pete…" Susan waved her hand, stooping to pick up another log. "It's a whole thing."

"And what about you?" Brielle looked over, noticing Susan's hesitation. Noticing her eyebrow raise. "Where do you fit with everything? Peter's kind of the dad," she gestured with her hand. "Obviously." She rolled her eyes. Susan chuckled. "Edmund and Lucy get on each other's nerves, or, I guess she gets on his. Lucy's been nothing but sweet. And you…"

"I guess I don't really know where I fit," Susan admitted. Then she frowned. "I mean, I try to help mum as much as I can. I try to stop Ed's and Lu's fighting; I try to keep Ed from being so…nasty. I try to keep Pete from being so hardheaded. I like ease and comfort, and the others seem to want to go straight into the things that would bring the opposite of that." She kept speaking before Brielle could ask Susan about her position of being the peacemaker, seemingly to her own detriment. "I guess it's true that common sense isn't so common anymore."

Brielle laughed to herself. For a short while, they continued to walk around, picking up more and more logs as they went. Lapsed into a comfortable silence before heading back to the area they were calling camp for the night. Peter and Lucy had dropped their gathering of logs into a semblance of a pile that Mr. Beaver was using his tail to knock into place while Mrs. Beaver passed around some of the food they'd brought along.

Susan made a low humming sound, placing her logs onto the pile as well. "I guess its not so bad we decided to take some of the food and preservatives that Mrs. Beaver offered to us, huh?" She shot Peter a smug smile.

Peter held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, I admit it," he said. "I was wrong. Okay?" He looked to Susan and Brielle then to Lucy. "Okay?" He smiled when Lucy giggled back, bringing up her hands to cover her mouth. Or to hide her mouth as she ate some of the food that Mrs. Beaver had offered her.

Brielle smoothed down the bottom of her jacket to be beneath her as she sat on the snowy ground. She crossed her legs and rested her chin in her hands, watching in rapt attention and fascination when she saw Mr. Beaver do some sort of a trick—a quick movement of a thin piece of wood between his paws that erupted in a large flame that quickly engulfed the pile.

Warmth spread across Brielle's face, making her roll back her shoulders to ease the tension that seemed to rest there. Allowed all the muscles in her back and shoulders to ease up and give a sense of relief to everything that'd been going on. Bringing up her hand, she pressed her fingers to the brooch that Father Christmas that had given her. Again, it felt warm to her touch, compared to the coolness of the stone against her throat.

The warmth of the stone was warmer than the fire that roared in front of her.

The group ate dinner before slowly drifting off to sleep. Lucy was the first to konk out, the minute she leaned over and rested her head on her brother's leg, she was snorting quietly. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver then curled together, resting their heads on their paws as they fell asleep. Susan had turned over to sleep and, at some point, Brielle realized she'd fallen asleep as well.

Or, rather, was aware that she was somewhere between being awake and asleep.

Where she could feel herself lying on the cool ground with the fire raging beside her, keeping her warm all the same. But her mind also wandered, seeming to be pulled rather than drift off in certain directions before ultimately landing where they were. She felt that familiar pull, there when she'd fallen through her bathtub, a sort of pinch and a guiding hand.

Then it turned into a tug, a sharp tug that yanked Brielle and her consciousness in a direction so fast that when she sat up, she wasn't sure if she'd even managed to fall asleep. Or if she'd been smacked in the face with a handful of snow once more. But when she did sit up, she looked around and noticed everything was the same…but different.

The darkness and shadows around seemed to have deepened to an almost inky black color that had a life of its own. Twisting and turning along with the crackling flames that danced above the campfire. Tilting her head to watch the smoke raise into the sky, Brielle noted how the sky seemed to have taken on a life of its own. It brought a strange sort of comfort toward her.

The sound of the snapping of the logs in the fire caught her attention. But only for a moment, before she realized that the sound hadn't come from the fire but from the other side of it. Something coming through the woods toward her. For a moment, fear gripped her, screamed at her to yell for Peter, Susan, and the others. But when she opened her mouth, she found she was unable to speak. Her eyes widened, her hand coming to her throat.

Then her eyes shifted around the fire, for the first time realizing she was alone. Peter, Susan, Lucy, and the Beavers were gone. The cracking sound came again, and her eyes went back to the source, seeing a pair of glowing eyes come toward her.

The form slowly revealed itself, slinking out from the bushes and went around the side of the fire until it stopped a few feet from her. Lowered itself to its stomach and brought its paws forward.

"So, it's true," Maugrim commented. His ears twitched, eyes flickering over Brielle's face.

Brielle stared at Maugrim, felt that familiar pinching-pull once more, this time, in her throat. Her eyes widened when she gasped quietly, then, hearing the sound of her gasp, she hesitantly spoke. "What's true?"

Maugrim's ears flickered at her voice. "Jadis allowed me to come see you. But I could only see you at night. She said I would understand…" His eyes narrowed briefly. He got to his paws and started toward her once more. Slowly encircled her. He watched silently as Brielle whipped her heard around, searching for the White Witch. "She's not here."

Brielle shook her head, moved to push herself away from him. "She's trying to track us down."

"She's trying to track _them _down." Maugrim tossed his head in the direction the Pevensies had been before, and sat near her again. "Not you. You're not a threat to her reign, but the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve are the ones who could stop everything." He reached up with his paw and started to scratch at his ear.

"What do you want with me?"

Maugrim paused in his movement and looked back at her, his gold eyes flickering over her face as if trying to determine whether she was telling the truth. Then his lips pulled back into what looked like a snarl…but didn't appear threatening. At least, not to Brielle. It didn't _feel _threatning.

It felt warm…familiar…

"I wanted to see for myself," Maugrim finally replied. "My queen said you're so much alike. Now I understand." Lowering his paw back to the ground, Maugrim stepped toward her. "You need to wake up."

He barked once, making her jump and close her eyes.

Brielle sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes flying open. Immediately seeing the fire before her, she winced and turned her head away. Then, when her eyes adjusted, she opened them once more, her lashes fluttering. Another cracking sound.

Sitting up, Brielle looked around the fire, gasping when she spotted the Pevensies and the Beavers sleeping quietly, curled up in their jackets as close to the fire as they could. The ground beside them having dried out, the snow melted away as they slept. Brielle's eyes searched through the bushes around them, looking for Maugrim's glowing eyes, but found nothing.

She turned her gaze to the sky, frowning, seeing it wasn't as black as it had been before. That the shadows weren't as long or anxious as they'd been previously. Bringing up her hands, she brushed her hair back from her face, resting her fingertips on the back of her neck, breathing heavily.

For the rest of the night, Brielle stayed awake. She watched the stars in the sky slowly disappeared with the brightness of the sun that peaked over the trees. Waited for the others to wake up and stamp out the campfire before they started walking once more.

As they went, Brielle continued to find herself looking to the trees that surrounded them, trying to catch a glimpse at what might be following them.

Wondering if she'd get any answers to her unasked questions. Most importantly, wondering why it was that once Maugrim revealed himself, she was no longer afraid.

* * *

**A/N: **I bet a lot of you were waiting for a chapter/scene like this and I've been dyyyyying for it! I'm so glad I was finally able to get here! Especially since I haven't really been able to do much with it since chapter…3…I think? Anyway, let me know what you guys think.

**Cheers,**

**-Riles**


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